


Make You Swallow Your Pride

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Baby, Blood Drinking, Canon through 3B, Future Fic, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Malia Doesn't Exist, Minor Derek Hale/Scott McCall, Mpreg, Not a lot of snark, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter's point of view, Sane Peter, Surrogate Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3589281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles uses his magic to be a surrogate for Peter's baby. It's supposed to be a business arrangement, but...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

San Francisco, Peter thinks, is the best city. If you have to live in a city.

It’s not too large, like New York. Or too cold and strangely smelly, like Chicago. Los Angeles is all concrete, and Texas is full of Texans.

San Francisco feels comfortably small, it has a lot of different types of neighborhoods and Golden Gate Park is over 1,000 acres in size. Big enough for an antsy wolf to run in during the full moon. And if that’s not enough, he can wander through the Presidio for some quiet and he’s spent more than one night in nearby Muir Woods.

For those non-wolfy times, the city offers restaurants, theatre, shopping, museums and many things that a cultured werewolf like Peter appreciates.

His job is interesting, or at least interesting enough. He works for a law firm that supports the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, working on contracts with other museums around the world. It might sound dull, but it actually gives Peter plenty of opportunity to be his devious self, while remaining totally legal.

 

He’s at a bar that’s close enough to his house that he can easily walk home, but not so close to be his neighborhood bar. It’s a comfortable place, a mix of gay and straight, men and women of various ages. Not that he’s planning on picking someone up tonight, but if you can’t rule things out. Peter likes to pretend he can be spontaneous.

 

Peter’s having his second gin and tonic when he hears a familiar laugh. It’s one he remembers and he can picture the boy’s head thrown back with a full, unembarrassed laugh. Stiles is here, in San Francisco, in his bar. He turns and scans the bar, focusing on individual voices and looking for the scent he remembers so well, even after all this time. The boy who set him on fire, the boy who should have been his beta.

He’s able to find the conversation, and listens as Stiles talks with another boy Peter recognizes from Beacon Hills. Dark haired, dated one of the killer twins, Peter can’t remember his name. He’s not interesting.

“I know, but it would have been perfect, Danny,” Peter hears Stiles say.

“Perfect, if you think insane is perfect,” the other boy, apparently named Danny, answers.

“It would have been a good test for my magic and plus Claire and Dennis would have been fantastic parents,” Stiles says, and even in the crowded bar, Peter can smell his mood dampen. “Not to mention, the money would be great.”

Danny’s voice gets quieter when he says, “You’re sure you’re not doing it just for the money? Because that’s a lot to go through, no matter how much money’s offered.”

“No, not _just_ for the money, it would have been good, but mostly…it’s something I could do and Claire’s been talking for so long about how they want a baby.”

They’re both silent for a moment, and Peter can see them both drinking from their beer glasses.

“Man,” Danny says, shaking his head, “you want to use magic and have a supernatural baby that you’re not even going to keep.”

Stiles snorts and says, “I don’t want a kid, just to have a baby. Can you imagine?”

Peter hears a cell phone ring and Danny looks at it and leaves the booth, giving Stiles a nod and wave as he walks across the crowded bar, conversation lost to Peter’s ears. He signals the bar tender for drinks and a minute later, he’s slipping into the booth across from Stiles.

“Oh my god,” Stiles gasps, and to his credit there’s a minimal amount of actual flailing. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Peter pushes a glass of beer towards Stiles, sips his own drink and says, “Having a drink of course. Why are you here, specifically in San Francisco? Passing through on your way to where you live, which isn’t here?”

“I live here in the city, I have for the last two years. Are you passing through, maybe stopping for the night before you go back to hell?” Stiles angrily drinks his beer, something Peter wasn’t sure could be done.

“No, I live here; I have for the last seven years,” he answers calmly.

“This is where you moved after you left Beacon Hills? I thought you went to South America with Cora or something.”

Peter shrugs, noting Stiles’ scent has calmed. He’s not sure if he should be insulted or not. “No, obviously not. I’ve been here, a productive member of society and …”

Stiles snorts again and says, “Really? Productive member of society? Is that some kind of code for homicidal maniac?”

He pulls his wallet out of his jacket pocket and pulls out a business card, pushing it across the damp table towards Stiles. Stiles leans closer to it, not touching it. “An attorney? You’re an attorney at a law firm? Legitimately?”

“Legitimately, Stiles. It’s what I did before the fire and so after I moved, I took a few classes and reapplied for my license.” Peter watches as Stiles pushes the card back towards him where it lies on the table between them. “And so what do you do? You must be out of school by now.”

“For two years, yeah,” Stiles chuckles. “I work for the Botanical Gardens. You know, in Golden Gate Park?”

“Interesting. What do you do?”

“I work in the gardens,” he says with a smirk. “Mainly the ancient plant gardens. My degree is in botany, I started at Humboldt and transferred to UC Davis to finish. Been here since then.”

“Interesting, and good for you. I assume it allows you to steal plants as needed for spells?” Peter nods at the waitress passing their booth, signaling for another round.

“Nothing’s damaged, you need to prune plants to keep them healthy,” he answers grinning. “But what makes you think I work there for anything other than my love of nature?”

The waitress drops off their drinks and both nod their thanks, waiting until she leaves before Peter says, “I heard what you were saying to Danny.”

Stiles sips his beer and raises an eyebrow. “Nice, Peter, still the creepy eavesdropper.”

“I recognized your laugh and couldn’t help myself. And your conversation was interesting. I’m sorry your plan didn’t work out, it sounds like something that takes a lot of skill.”

“It does, and thanks again for listening in. Next topic?”

Peter smiles and says, “Was your plan something you were doing specifically for your friends? Claire, I think was the woman’s name. Or is that something you might do for someone else?”

Stiles sits back in his seat, narrowing his eyes. “Someone else who?”

“Well since you asked, me. I’d like a child and have no plans for a spouse or a mate. If the Hale name is to continue, it appears it might be up to me. Cora doesn’t seem to have any interest in a family and Derek…”

“Yeah, you may not want to place your bets on Derek. Although he and Braeden were together for about three years,” Stiles says, smiling.

“And she didn’t try to kill him, so he’s making better choices. But at his pace, he won’t be ready for a child until he’s in his 90s.”

“And you? You think you’re parental material? It would be like one of those horror movies with killer children,” Stiles snorts and shakes his head.

Peter takes a breath, making sure his annoyance doesn’t show. He’s had years of practice now and can keep a small smile on his face. “My understanding is that as a surrogate, you’d have nothing to do with the child, right? I have money if that’s your concern. And believe it or not, I am actually good father material.”

Stiles cocks an eyebrow and says nothing for a moment. “True, I’d have nothing to do with the kid, I’d just be the delivery system. And I know Hales have buttloads of money. But you and a kid? I’ll call child protective services on myself.”

The wolf reaches into his wallet again and pulls out a picture that’s tucked in a separate pocket behind his driver’s license, sliding it over to Stiles.

He picks it up and looks at the photo. The photo has a bit of what looks like water damage at the bottom, and it’s sealed in plastic. There’s a blonde woman smiling at a younger version of Peter, who is smiling at the small, blond boy he’s holding.

Peter smiles and sips his drink. “Tricia my wife and our son, Mark. He was four. She apparently thought I was good father material. Of course it’s probably because she was there being a good mother.” Stiles gives the picture back and Peter notes he’s blushing, with his smell a mix that Peter can’t quite catalogue. Embarrassment, sorrow and a few other things. He puts the picture back in his wallet and he’s surprised when Stiles briefly pats his arm. Normally, Peter hates anything that feels like pity, but he’ll take whatever might help his cause.

“I’ll think about it, okay? That’s the best I can give you.” Stiles finishes his beer and shrugs. “I mean let’s face it, we don’t have the best history. You trying to kill me, me killing you, monster fights…lots of back story and I left Beacon Hills because of all that crap.”

“Me, too, you know. I enjoy my life now and my job and the peace and quiet here. I’d raise the child here in the city,” Peter says and hopes that he doesn’t sound like he’s begging. He tries to pull himself back into his work mode, this is just another presentation.

“Everything would change with a child, but I’m sure you know that.” Stiles sighs and looks at the table, dragging his finger though a small puddle of water next to his glass. “And we’d be in each other’s pockets for nine months. And in case you couldn’t figure it out, there’s the baby-making part of it.”

Peter grins when Stiles’ scent changes; it’s not revulsion, not at all. “I’m sure we’d both deal with that. And we did get along fairly well before I left. No one died for well over a year.”

“Like I said, let me think about it.” He takes Peter’s business card from the table and wiggles enough to put it in his back pocket.

“Fine,” Peter says, nodding. He’s done his best, now it’s out of his hands. “Another beer, Stiles? While you can?”

“Peter Hale, are you trying to seduce my womb?” Stiles grins, pushing his glass to the edge of the table.

The waitress chooses then to approach their table and gives them both a quick shake of her head. “You’re so weird, Stilinski,” she says. “Another round?”

Peter smiles and nods, watching Stiles blush as the waitress walks away. After the drinks arrive, they spend the next hour talking about their jobs, Stiles’ time at college and anything other than Peter’s request.  Finally, Peter pours Stiles into a taxi to send him home.

Now, all he can do is wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Peter go over the surrogacy contract with Stiles' attorney.

Following their meeting, Peter does what he usually does, and tries not to think too hard about Stiles and their conversation at the bar the other night.

He works, he goes out, he shops, cooks, and generally acts ‘normal.’ The pack back in Beacon Hills wouldn’t recognize him, now that he’s a productive member of society. After ten days, he’s pretty much determined he won’t hear from Stiles again. And that’s okay, Peter thinks, he hasn’t lost anything. Not this time; if you didn’t have it, you haven’t lost it.

When Stiles finally calls on day twelve, Peter’s surprised, but quickly recovers when he recognizes the voice. “Well, hello, Stiles. How are you?”

“Fine, Peter, thanks. Um, sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you, we had a bit of an emergency at work and I’ve been doing some long days and … anyway, are you still interested in what we talked about?”

Peter can feel his heart skip a beat, but fortunately Stiles can’t hear it. And he knows how to keep his voice even. “Yes, I am. And have you made a decision?”

Peter hears some papers rustling and Stiles says, “Yeah, definitely. And yes, if you’re serious about it.”

“Yes, very serious,” he says, shutting his eyes and taking a breath. Focus. “So, what do you need from me? I’m guessing that I have to let you drive?”

“Yup, ‘fraid so,” Stiles says and pauses. “So what I can do is to send you a copy of a contract and then a couple days later, we’ll get together and go over it? And go from there, is that okay? If everything works out, the full moon is in 12 days. So that’s when the baby magic happens.”

“Sounds like a plan, Stiles,” Peter answers, glancing at his calendar, which already has the date circled. “You have my work address? Or do you want to overnight the contract to my house?” This is all good - contracts, meetings, this is normal.

“Whichever you want, Peter.  I don’t want to make you uncomfortable with this coming to your work. I can send a hard copy or I was thinking emailing it, if you’re good with that.”

Good idea, the boy’s thinking. “You’re right. I’ll text you my personal email. And my home address as well, you should have that.”

“Yeah, we’ll need that eventually. So…you text me and I’ll send you the contract and then we’ll meet.”  He hears a bit of a laugh in Stiles’ voice as he says, “I have a lawyer who’ll meet with us. I know you’re a lawyer, but if you want to bring someone, too, that’s fine.”

“Depends on what I see in the contract, I suppose,” Peter answers. “I did all the legal work for the pack before the fire, so I don’t really worry that it’s a conflict in any way. Where do you think we’ll meet?”

“If it’s okay with you, I thought we could get a room in a hotel for the day, maybe by the airport?” There’s a twinge of uncertainty in Stiles’ voice now. “My attorney is in Palo Alto, she works for Stanford. So that’s kind of neutral territory. That work?”

“Of course, whatever you need.” Peter wants to hang up so he can send his text and get the contract before Stiles reconsiders. “I’ll text you and we can arrange a time.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” Stiles says and again, Peter hears some hesitancy. “I was told that you should pay for the hotel, that’s the first thing my attorney said, I hope that’s okay, I know it’s kinda petty and…”

Peter chuckles and shakes his head. “Not a problem, Stiles. Do you want me to pay your attorney’s fees?”

Stiles snorts and says, “No, I think that’s on me. But thanks for the offer. And… see you soon.”

 

Stiles emails the contract that day and Peter prints it out, making a few notes. But actually very few, there’s not a lot that concerns him. Everything seems normal, confirmation of a payment schedule, Stiles chooses his doctor, how long he’ll work at his job. And Peter takes the baby home from the doctor as soon as it’s healthy enough to be released – which for a werewolf baby, should be that day. Most of it’s fine with Peter, they can talk out the other items. Nothing seems like a deal breaker, at least nothing he’s reading.

 

He sets up a room at the Westin by the airport, and make sure he gets there half an hour before Stiles and his attorney will be there. There’s a room they can meet in, complete with a conference table, fax machine and printer, with a bedroom and bathroom off to the side. Peter’s not sure how long this will take, but he’s got the room for the night if it’s needed, either for himself or if Stiles wants to stay. He’s arranged for coffee and pastries and fresh fruit. Treating this like a business meeting makes it seem more normal and besides, if he remembers anything about Stiles it’s that he thrives on coffee and there’s not enough food in the world to satisfy him.

Peter hears Stiles at the hotel door, just a few minutes later than expected. A quick sniff tells Peter there’s three people outside, the voices are two men and a woman.

“Hey, Peter, thanks for getting the room,” Stiles says, entering the room and looking around, sighting the coffee pot on the side table. “Oh breakfast, thank god.” He pours himself coffee and grabs a cheese Danish, settling himself at the conference table with a smile. “You remember Danny, I’m sure and also Lydia?”

“Of course,” Peter says, stiff smile on his face. “And you’re here because…”

“I’m his attorney,” Lydia says, looking at the coffee. “Is there tea?”

“Do you see tea?”

She makes a dismissive noise and pours herself some coffee, and puts some of the sliced fruit on a small plate, moving it towards the table, sitting next to Stiles.

“Danny’s here because he’s a notary,” Stiles answers the unasked question. “And he’s interested in how all this will play out. So he’s a nosey notary.”

Danny shrugs and says, “I’m probably not needed until the end, so I can come back if you want or just wait…” he looks around the room and takes a step towards the couch.

“Either way, up to you,” Peter says, wanting to be accommodating to Stiles. “There’s a bedroom through there, if you want to watch television or something. And please eat, I always order too much.”

“Sure,” Danny replies and fills a plate with pastries and fruit, taking it and coffee into the other room. He pushes the door shut, not quite closing it.

“Is your attorney coming?” Lydia asks, sipping her coffee and watching as Stiles piles some fruit on a plate, topping it with another Danish.

“I’m not sure if Stiles told you, but I’m an attorney.” Peter refills his cup and takes a place at the table.

Lydia smiles and says, “He who represents himself….”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. We’re not here to be adversarial, are we?” Peter’s smile focuses on Stiles and he takes a chance and touches the boy’s arm.

“No, we all have the same goal, it’s just that Lydia hates you,” Stiles replies, grinning. “But she’s also my go-to for supernatural legal needs.”

“That being said, it’s probably best we get started,” Lydia states, opening a folder and pulling out a copy of the contract. “You’ve read it all and marked anything you have questions on?”

Peter nods, pulling his copy of the contract out of a folder similar to Lydia’s. “I have and I did.”

“So you understand that you’ll pay Stiles $10,000 when you sign the contract, and $10,000 when there’s confirmation he’s conceived. $10,000 when he hits the third trimester. And then the final $20,000 when he delivers.” Lydia flips through pages and says, “You’ll be paying all his expenses, including medical expenses, food and lodging costs, any expenses for clothes or miscellaneous needs and of course his legal fees.”

Stiles turns to Lydia and asks, “Legal fees? You said you weren’t charging me?”

“I’m not charging you; I’m charging Peter,” Lydia explains with a smile. “Is that a problem?”

“Not for me,” Stiles shrugs.

“It’s fine, I have my checkbook,” Peter says. “But let’s talk about lodging for a minute, please.” He flips to one page of the contract that’s marked with a yellow post-it note. “Stiles lives in his apartment and I’m paying for it? I’m not concerned with the paying part, but I’m not sure I like where you live.”

“My apartment is great, what’s wrong with it? And why do you know where I live?” Stiles asks, shifting towards Lydia.

“You live in a dump and it’s 47 bus transfers to your work,” Danny calls from the bedroom. So much for him not listening in.

“You love where I live, you always say that!” Stiles yells back towards the door as Danny comes out and sits down on the couch next to the table.

“It’s good for me, I work downtown. But it’s South of Market and you work in Golden Gate Park. And your place has no elevator. So when you’re eight months pregnant, you’re going to waddle up the stairs?” Danny reaches over and pours himself a glass of juice, apparently now a part of the conversation. At least he sounds like he’s on Peter’s side.

Stiles stands, hands on the table and addresses the room. “I don’t want to give up my apartment, the rent’s good and it’s not that bad getting to work.”

“I was thinking you’d move in with me and I’d continue to pay for your apartment so you’ll have it when you’ve had the baby and you’re ready to move back in,” Peter says.

“I could move in to make sure everything’s okay, water your plants and stuff,” Danny offers.

“Need a break from Cassie?” Stiles asks, grinning.

Danny nods and shrugs. “She’s at the stage where she’s no longer eating pints of Ben & Jerry’s and now she’s sleeping with pretty much everyone. I wouldn’t mind having a few months without a room-mate.”

“Yeah, been there, done them,” Stiles says, nodding and nudging Lydia in the ribs. “Remember when I broke up with Travis?”

She pats his arm and whispers, “So ugly.” She turns to Danny and asks, “So you’re ready to babysit his apartment, with Peter paying? And Stiles, you’ll move in with Peter? When will that happen?”

“Did you have an idea of that, Peter? And I still think it’s weird you know where I live. And where do you live anyway?”

Peter gets up to get more coffee, refilling Stiles’ cup as well. “It sounds like Danny wants out of his situation, so maybe as soon as you conceive. And of course I checked where you live, I want to know where my child would be. I have a house in the Seacliff district; it’s smallish, but you’ll have your own room and bathroom.”

“Ooo, ritzy,” Danny says.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Stiles grins and raises a hand for a high-five with Danny, that never appears. “What else do you want to talk about?”

“Your work. I believe your work requires that you lift heavy objects?”

Stiles sputters and says, “Sometimes. Not all the time. It’s not like all I do is haul stuff around.”

Peter sighs and rubs his eyes. He really thought Stiles might have matured, but it looks like everything’s going to be a fight. “You know, you won’t exactly be able to tell your employer that you need to be on light duty because of your pregnancy? And you’ll need to quit fairly early on, as soon as you start to show.”

“I know…I know that,” the boy says. Peter keeps a straight face when he hears the thump of a liar’s heartbeat and the scent of embarrassment.

Lydia reaches over and give Stiles’ hand a squeeze. “Why don’t we say that you’ll take a sabbatical no later than the start of the second trimester? Your doctor will write you a medical note for something, right? Come up with some type of illness that has you off work for six months?”

Danny looks up from his tablet and says, “Maybe you need a knee replacement or something? That would get you off work and the lack of exercise would explain any weight gain until you quit.”

“And you grimace when you lift things for the next couple of weeks, so when you ask someone to help you with lifting…” Peter starts and Stiles nods along.

“They expect me to ask and then I take time off. That could work.” He nods again and says, “Thanks, I guess I hadn’t thought all of this through.”

Lydia raises an eyebrow and just says, “Really? Okay, what else, you still have notes on your copy of the contract, Peter.”

He smiles and flips a couple of pages. “Your doctor. This says you get to choose the doctor for pre-natal care and to deliver the baby. Can you give me a bit of information on that? Is it Deaton?”

Stiles snorts, rolling his eyes. “God, no, and I hope that’s okay because this is not negotiable. I have someone I’ve worked with on my magic and she’s actually a real, live medical doctor, an ob-gyn. And she said she can do the c-section to deliver the baby. She’s really looking forward to it and she’s delivered babies before, so…”

“Has she delivered a man’s baby? Or is this her first?” Peter asks, but either way, it’s better than relying on his sister’s former emissary, the shady fuck.

Stiles smiles, and his excitement is evident even to those without werewolf senses. “Her first, but we’ve talked about how this will work. It’s just like a regular baby delivered by cesarean. Everything pre-natal should be pretty regular as well, so I’ll see her on a regular schedule and have a routine ultrasound and all that.”

“And I can go with you to appointments?” Peter asks. It’s something that wasn’t addressed in the contract.

“Sure. Yeah, I’d expect that you’d want to. I mean you don’t _have_ to, but…”

Lydia makes a note and says, “I’ll add that in; that Peter’s allowed to go to all appointments. And at the birth, of course. You take the baby home as soon as the doctor releases him or her.”

“But I can’t guarantee what sex the baby will be or that it’ll be human or a werewolf, you saw that, right?” Stiles says, gesturing between the contract and Peter with his fork.

“As we discussed, that’s fine, Stiles. I’m not looking for a designer baby, just a child,” Peter says and gets another plate of fruit, placing it within Stiles’ grasp.

“So you read the part about making said baby, right?” Stiles asks, and he’s grinning and his smell is … wickedly happy.

“IVF,” Lydia mutters, head down in the papers.

“Lyds, we talked about this -- magic baby, that’s not how they happen,” Stiles replies, still grinning a little maniacally. Peter smirks and thinks it looks good on him.

“Nothing about this makes sense to me, Stiles,” she says and crosses her arms over her chest. “You discuss this part, please.”

“Pretty simple,” Stiles says, addressing Peter directly. “We do it during the full moon, the next one if you’re ready for it.” Peter nods and Stiles continues, “I’ll send you instructions a day or so before and confirm on the day of, where we’ll meet and when. And you do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you and how I tell you. There’ll be a potion for you to drink and then you follow instructions. No lasting side effects – well other than…” he rubs his stomach and raises an eyebrow. “Can you do that? Trust me?”

Peter listens to his heartbeat and smells the calm on him. And the magic simmering just below the surface. He nods and says, “Yes, we wouldn’t be doing this otherwise. And it’ll work the first time?”

Stiles rolls his eyes and smirks, finally saying, “Magic.”

“Great, you trust each other and so you’re both idiots,” Lydia says, smiling brightly. “What else, what other questions or concerns?”

“The contract says that Stiles’ attorney will provide the birth certificate?” Peter says, moving to his last yellow note.

“I was planning to, unless you’d like to,” Lydia answers and waits for a reply.

Her scent seems steady and he can’t hear a lie. Stiles picked a good friend and there’s nothing requiring that Peter likes her. “I’m sure I’ll be busy with the baby, so I’d appreciate if you’d do the paperwork. I’m sure you’ll charge me.”

She nods and watches as he pulls the tag off, stacking it with the others. “If that’s all, I’ll make the changes and you can give a final review.” She looks around and sees the printer, then takes out her laptop and says, “It looks like we can sign it today.”

“Great,” Stiles says, jumping up and moving back towards the coffee, before he stops and says, “I may have had enough. I’m going to go in the other room and check my emails for a bit, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, be comfortable,” Peter says, smiling as he hears the TV go on in the other room. He can’t help himself, checking for the steady heartbeats and everyone’s calm, positive scent.

“This is the guy you said was crazy when we were in high school?” Danny asks and Stiles mumbles something that sounds like an agreement. “Well, at least he’s hot, so you’ve got that.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t really matter,” Stiles says, snorting quietly. “We’re not dating or anything, it’s a one-time thing.”

“Peter,” Lydia says quietly, interrupting his eavesdropping. “You know I think this is a bad idea.”

He chuckles and says, “You could not have made that more clear, Ms. Martin. But it’s really just a business deal for the both of us.”

“Hmm. I hope so. You know if you hurt him in any way…”

“This is where you threaten to destroy me or something, right? With your crazy banshee power,” Peter interrupts. “I have nothing to gain and everything to lose if this doesn’t go well. All I want is a child, exactly as we discussed. Nothing more and nothing less. Then he never needs to see me again.”

“You weren’t around after the nogitsune; you left. Not that I blame you, but it took Stiles a long time to heal from that, from the memories of what he did when he was possessed.” She pauses and pulls some of the papers out of the printer, handing them to Peter, who uses the table to straighten them out, just like he would at his office. “He threw himself into magic as a way to feel like he was in control again; to feel like he had power.” She purses her lips and smiles, saying, “I guess you’d say this is the ultimate control, building his own uterus.”

She studies him carefully and says, “Don’t fuck this up.” Then she turns and calls out, “We’re ready to sign,” as she lines up three sets of papers on the table. Peter and Stiles sit back down at the table as Lydia flips pages, repeating “sign here” and “initial here” over and over. There’s not quite as many signatures as when he bought his house, but it’s still a lot.

Finally, they’re ready for Danny to pull out his notary book and stamp and then everything’s finished. Lydia takes two copies and puts them in her folder, telling Stiles that she’ll give keep his copy until later.

“That’s it,” Lydia says and makes her way to the door. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.” She nods at Peter and says, “Peter. I’m sure we’ll see each other for the birth certificate.”

Stiles grabs his jacket and shoves his phone into a pocket. Then he turns to Peter and says, “I guess that’s it for today. I’ll call you with information and I’ll see you the night of the full moon.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Peter make a baby.

It’s another few days of waiting, but at least it’s not as long as the first time. It’s only a couple of days until he gets a text from Stiles. It’s just a friendly hello and reminder that Stiles will send instructions for the ritual in a couple of days. Peter smiles and text back a quick thanks, knowing the message was just to reassure him that Stiles hadn’t changed his mind.

The day before the full moon, Peter’s at work, trying to concentrate on a document when his phone rings. “Stiles, nice to hear from you.”

“Hey, Peter, is now a good time? Do you have a few minutes?” Stiles asks, and Peter can hear the excitement in his voice.

“Absolutely,” Peter answers, back at his desk after shutting his office door. “I’m ready to take notes, Stiles. Go ahead when you’re ready.”

Stiles chuckles and says, “Not a lot of instructions, at least not for tomorrow. You know where the employee parking lot is for the Aboretum? Be there tomorrow night at eight-thirty. You won’t be able to drive in, so wolfie run, okay?”

“Eight-thirty, that’s fine,” Peter says, making a note on the pad in front of him. “Do I need to bring anything?”

“No, I’ll have everything. Tomorrow, don’t eat after breakfast or after nine in the morning. That’ll help make sure the potion gets in you faster.” Peter can hear faint scratching over the phone from Stiles taking his own notes.

Peter looks at his note pad with only two things written on it. “What else? Seems kind of easy.”

“That’s about it,” Stiles answers, and Peter can picture him shrugging. “Oh, take your shower, but after don’t use any cologne or deodorant or hair stuff or anything after. Need to be sure that there’s no chemicals or botanicals that could interfere with the spell.”

Peter scribbles a note and tries not to think of what his hair will look like. “Okay. Anything else? Is it okay for me to drink water or anything during the day or absolutely nothing?”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Stiles says, chuckling. “Sure, water is fine. Umm, don’t try any tea or anything like that, again, it’s…”

“Nothing to interfere with the potion, got it. I’ll stick with plain water,” Peter says, smirking.

“Okay, so I’ll see you on the 5th,” Stiles says and hangs up.

 

Peter gets to the parking lot a few minutes early and sees Stiles’ car already parked in the lot, although the boy is nowhere to be found.

Stiles comes out of one of the buildings right on time, locking the door behind him. When he sees Peter, he smiles and heads to the trunk of his car. “Hey, Peter, glad you made it. Take one of these bags, will you?” Stiles hands a back pack to Peter and pulls the handles of a duffle bag over his shoulder.

“Where to?” Peter asks, following Stiles as he quickly moves across the parking lot. He smells excited, but in a good way, much different than the excited-Stiles smell Peter remembers from years ago in Beacon Hills.

“Got a little bit of a walk, not too far,” Stiles says, shifting the bag on his shoulder. “Just going towards the boat house, I found the perfect place.”

They arrive in a small meadow and Stiles turns to Peter, huge grin on his face, and says, “Set your bag down under that tree, okay? I have a few things to get ready.”

“Let me know if I can help,” Peter offers and stands off to the side. Stiles gives him a preoccupied nod, pulling items out of the bags.

He shakes out a thick cotton blanket and spreads it on the ground, aligning the corners next to large rocks sitting on the grass, using them to anchor the blanket. “I set up a few days ago and kept checking to be sure nothing was moved. We should have privacy here, the cops don’t patrol around here until after midnight and we’ll be gone by then.” He stands and looks at the sky, visible through the trees around them, with none directly overhead. “Just a little more get ready.”

Stiles goes into the backpack and pulls out a small electric lantern, about the size of a softball. “Mood lighting. I didn’t think a candle would be a good idea,” Stiles says with a shrug. He checks his phone, turning it to silent and raises an eyebrow. “Time to get this show on the road.” He pulls two small bottles, jam jars from the looks of them, out of the duffle bag and holds one out towards Peter. “Okay, here’s what happens. You’ll drink this and it’ll kick in in a few minutes. It’ll affect your control; it’s supposed to. You won’t totally wolf out and I know you won’t hurt me, you can’t, it’s part of the spell. I know that, Peter, so don’t fight it, just go with it. You’ll hallucinate a little, too, it shouldn’t be too bad. And I’ll be here if it gets too weird just tell me.” He looks at Peter and waits for a nod before he continues. “You’ll be able to hear me and understand me and you have to do what I say – exactly what I say and exactly when I say it, okay? That’s important.”

Peter looks at the bottle and raises an eyebrow, glad that Stiles can’t smell his nerves. “I think I can do that, Stiles. I can follow basic directions, you know.”

“Okay, just wanted to be sure you’re ready. Any questions?”

When Peter shakes his head, Stiles unscrews the lid on his jar and raises it towards him. “Mazel tov.”

“Good luck? I thought this was fool proof,” Peter answers, but his lips turn up in a small smile. Stiles always had some spark of magic, it was one of things that made him so interesting.

“It is fool proof, don’t worry. Double your sperm back guarantee,” he says and downs the contents of his jar. “Now drink up and get undressed; you can put your clothes over there,” he says, pointing towards the bags, resting off to the side under a tree.  

Peter opens his jar and sniffs it, smelling herbs and something spicy. He thinks he could name a couple of the items in the mix, but not everything. Since moving from Beacon Hills he’s obviously let himself get out of practice. He looks up and sees Stiles studying him, eyebrow raised in challenge. Peter nods and drinks it in three swallows, licking his lips afterwards, feeling it instantly warm his stomach. Probably the way humans feel when they drink alcohol. “Tasty,” he says and pulls his shirt off.

Stiles starts undressing, keeping an eye on Peter in a way that doesn’t feel lascivious, just that he’s watching for his reaction. When they’re both undressed, Stiles holds out his hand and takes Peter’s, pulling him down on the blanket. “How you doing?” Stiles asks. “Feeling a little fuzzy?”

Peter nods and reaches out a hand, running it down Stiles’ shoulder and looks at the boy’s tattoos. Peter recognizes some from his magic books, and traces one that he knows is an anti-possession symbol. Stiles smiles and suddenly Peter’s overwhelmed by his scent, full of spice and peaches and something a little wild.

He pushes the boy down on the blanket, running his nose up the boy’s chest and into his armpit, inhaling through both his nose and mouth, suddenly eager to find more of the scent that seems to be everywhere on him. Stiles whines quietly and Peter moves into his neck, licking and nipping the tender skin below his ear because he just smells so damn good.

Stiles sighs and turns his head, giving Peter more access to his neck, like the good boy he is. Peter looks up and sees the full moon shining down through the trees before he goes back to Stiles chest, sucking his nipple gently and soothing it with his tongue. His whimper makes Peter smile as he moves from one side to the other until Stiles’ back is arching off the blank and he’s gripping Peter’s hair, all little moans and whimpers.

When Stiles reaches to the side of the blanket to grab a small container, Peter nose dives into his armpit for a moment and then goes back to gently chewing on his neck with his human teeth. He kisses and licks his way down to Stiles’ cock, licking the pre-come that’s pooling on his belly before he moves to the boy’s balls, nuzzling and sniffing. Everything on his boy smells strong and spicy and Peter feels an ache in his gums as his teeth come out. He’s careful when he licks every bit of skin he can, humming as he sucks at Stiles’ slit, carefully covering his teeth.

“Peter,” Stiles gasps, pushing gently at his head with a hand to Peter’s cheek. “You have to stop now, okay? Remember, we’re making a baby.” He hands Peter the small container he grabbed earlier, opens it and lets Peter smell it. “I got ready a little bit earlier, but a little more would be good. Do you want to prep me a little? I’d like that.”

Stiles lies back on the blanket, pulling his feet towards his ass and letting his legs fall open, watching as Peter moves between them. He runs a finger down Stiles’ crack, slipping a finger into his already slick hole. “You did start already,” he mutters, circling his hole before he dips his fingers into the container of lube.

Stiles sighs, relaxing into Peter’s hands while he gently pumps his fingers into the boy’s tight hole, leaning down to nip his thighs, leaving a line of bruises along his legs and across his hips. Peter smiles into Stiles’ stomach as the moon moves from behind the trees, brightening the clearing.

He burrows his face in between Stiles’ legs, licking around his fingers, still moving in and out of Stiles’ hole. The lube and his hole all have the same spicy smell as his drink and the smell of Stiles. Peter gets another finger full of lube and enters again, turning and scissoring his fingers as Stiles’ pumps his hips, head thrown back with the moon just starting to shine on his head.

“Peter, come on you have to fuck me, remember, we’re making a baby,” Stiles whispers, pushing him gently away and rolling over. He goes to his knees, lowering his head onto his folded arms in front of him and wiggling his hips. “Okay, wolf, it’s time, let’s do this.”

Peter positions himself behind Stiles and licks his hole again, pushing his tongue past the muscle while Stiles groans.

“Jesus, any other time, Peter, I’d be all in, but not tonight,” Stiles says, grabbing Peter’s shoulder. “Now’s the time.”

The moon is shining on Stiles’ shoulders when Peter enters him, going slow because he wants to last as long as he can. Stiles thrusts back into him, and Peter can hear him muttering something, the cadence saying it’s a spell and he remembers he’s making a child with his mate. Stiles’ body is hot, almost painfully hot, and Peter sees his claws are out, leaving faint scratches where he’s holding the boy’s hips, marking him as his own.

“Little more, Peter, just a little more,” Stiles chants, looking over his shoulder with wolf-yellow eyes. Peter blankets him with his body, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ shoulder. He cups Stiles’ chin, pulling his face towards him and kisses him roughly, tugging his lower lip with his teeth as he pulls away and nips his way down his boy’s jaw.

“Oh!” he gasps, “Okay, not expecting that, could do that again sometime.” Stiles puts his head down and repeats whatever he was saying earlier; Peter hears something that he thinks is ‘baby’ in Greek and other things he doesn’t understand, but he’s so proud of his smart mate knowing these things. He feels Stiles start to shake under him and reaches his hand around to stroke Stiles’ cock, dancing his fingers on the pulsing vein underneath while Stiles continues to shudder.

“Yeah, it’s time, Peter, come with me, mate me, make your baby,” Stiles croons, clenching around Peter’s cock and the wolf can’t stop himself from biting the back of the boy’s neck as they both come, with Peter smothering the instinct to throw back his head and howl.

Stiles whines quietly when Peter pulls out and rolls them on their sides. “Okay, that was good and…”

“Um hmm,” Peter hums, moving Stiles so his head is resting on Peter’s shoulder, and he gently trails his fingers up and down Stiles’ back. He looks up at the moon, now only partially visible through the trees and kisses Stiles’ forehead with a quiet sigh.

“You okay? That wasn’t too too weird, was it?” Stiles half sits up and looks at Peter curiously. “The potion? Nothing too bad?”

Peter’s not sure what he’s talking about, but flashes his eyes and says, “Perfect.” Then he pulls Stiles back down, so he’s half on Peter’s chest and their legs are wrapped together.

“You’re a cuddler, who knew?” Stiles relaxes, and Peter holds him until he dozes off while Peter nuzzles his neck, keeping one ear open to make sure no one approaches and his mate is safe. 

Stiles wakes up shivering in a couple of minutes, burying his face in Peter’s warmth. “Guess the potion is wearing off, I’m feeling the cold. At least my bare ass is cold.” Peter feels him grin into his shoulder and reaches over and pulls the edge of the blanket over them.

“Better?”

Stiles rubs his eyes and looks at the sky, tracking the moon. “Yeah, this is nice, but just a couple more minutes and then we should go. The cops will eventually come around and it’s better if we’re gone. I’d kind of like to keep my job.” His stomach growls and Stiles stretches then curls into Peter again, tucking a cold hand into the wolf’s armpit.

“I can get you something,” Peter says, turning his head and listening to the noises around them. “There’s a possum, or a rat.” He pauses and smiles, kissing Stiles’ head when he says, “Oh, there’s a cat I can get for you.”

“Nice, thanks for the offer.” Stiles pats his shoulder and says, “I’m not really in the mood for cat.”

“Okay, whatever you want,” Peter answers and watches as Stiles untangles himself and starts to get dressed. “Where are my clothes?” Stiles pulls on his pants and hands Peter his clothes, silently watching Peter stretch and rub his eyes. “Is my head supposed to hurt? Is that normal?”

“Might feel like a little bit of a hangover, if you know what that feels like,” Stiles nods and shoves things into the duffel bag, then stands to fold up the blanket. “I’ve tasted both of the potions before – never to do the whole spell, obviously, but just to see what the after effect are. Yeah, you’ll be a little tired and headachy, I remember that. It wears off pretty fast though.”

Peter’s quiet, trying to get this thoughts back together as he gathers the last few things off the ground -- the jar his potion was in, and the tub from the lube -- and looks around. “Is that everything?” It seems like there should be something more to clean up, the after effects of a lightning strike.

“Yeah, I think so,” Stiles says, handing one of the bags to Peter. They’re both quiet as they begin to walk back to the car. “Couple of weeks from now, doctor can confirm that I’m pregnant. But I am, you know?” He looks at Peter, grins and then punches him in the arm. “I am. You’re gonna be a dad.”

They walk silently for a few minutes, both lost in thought, and soon the parking light is in sight.

“Did I…did I offer to catch a cat for you to eat?” Peter asks as they approach the car.

Stiles chuckles and says, “Yeah you did, and that was very nice of you. But I’d still rather have tacos. You hungry?”

Peter puts the bag into the trunk and looks at Stiles, thinking of the last hour and the next nine months. “Whatever. I could eat.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' pregnancy is confirmed and a bit of back story as well.

Patience is something Peter learned long ago. He learned it when he was a child waiting for the full moon or waiting for another new wolf to be born into the pack. As an adult, he was patient while courting Tricia, who was born human and agreed to become a wolf after they married. It was harder to stay patient waiting for his body to heal, waiting for the burns and more importantly for his mind to heal.

The only time he lost his patience was when he finally woke from the coma, angry, lost and in pain from the loss of his family. While he got revenge, he also relearned the value of patience.

Now, after leaving the hell hole that was Beacon Hills, he’s able to be patient again; working on a contract where one or two words might be changed with each draft.

 

Stiles says they can confirm the pregnancy in about two weeks. They keep in touch mostly by text, although there’s not much to say. Stiles talks about his job, filling Peter in on new plants they’ve received and how he can use them for spells.  It’s interesting and Peter starts to recognize some of what he’s talking about, although spells and magic were more his sister, Alana’s thing, not his. Peter tells him about new exhibits coming to the city’s museums, not really sure if Stiles cares or not, and tells him how he’s setting up the guest bedroom for Stiles to move in.

“Really, immediately after the doctor confirms I’m pregnant? That’s like in a week,” Stiles whines one evening on the phone.

“It’s what we agreed to, do you want me to get my copy of the contract?” Peter asks, turning the page of one of the many pregnancy books he’s bought. Not that Stiles’ magic pregnancy will be exactly like the ones described in the book, but it’s a good reminder and Stiles says it’ll be similar.

“No, I know what I agreed to, it’s just…man, it’s coming up fast, isn’t it? Are you ready for me?”

Peter snorts and puts down his book so he can concentrate on his conversation with Stiles, whose anxiousness is apparent even over the phone. “Depends on what you mean by ready? Your room is ready. I’m not sure anyone would be ready for you, Stiles.”

“Great, thanks. My appointment is on Thursday, you know.”

“Um hm. Should I pick you up or meet you at the doctor’s office?” Peter asks.

Stiles pauses and finally says, “Meet me there? And afterwards…”

“Get something to eat, if you’d like.” Peter answers, shrugging even though Stiles can’t see it. “I’m not expecting you to leave the doctor’s office and come with me immediately. How do you feel about Saturday?”

“I like Saturdays generally, I work 10 til 2. You mean to move in though? Yeah, I guess so. Can I just tell you I’m a bit nervous now?”

As though Peter can’t hear his heart beat over the phone. “Understood.” He says. “It’s not like you’re not allowed to go to your apartment for nine months, you know. If you need something or just want to go back, as long as it’s safe for you, that’s fine.” He pauses, remembering what Danny had said about Stiles’ home. “Of course with no elevator, you probably won’t want to haul yourself up the stairs after a few months. And your current clothes won’t fit, so…”

“Yeah, to all of that. But you’ll be okay if I go back for books or some movies or something?”

Peter chuckles and says, “You’re not a prisoner, Stiles. Of course you can go back, or ask me to pick stuff up or ask Danny or even Lydia to drop things off. I don’t expect your life to stop, I’m just trying to be sure you – and the baby – are healthy.”

“Okay, sure, I knew that,” he says and pauses. “So I’ll text you the address and see you Thursday at two p.m., okay?”

“Looking forward to it,” Peter answers and after a moment says, “And thank you again, Stiles.”

He hears Stiles chuckle this time and then he says, “You’re welcome, Peter. See you soon.”

 

“Peter, Mr. Talbot said you were waiting for this,” his assistant, Carla, says as she knocks on the door and comes into his office. Peter’s still smiling thinking about his conversation with Stiles and the upcoming doctor appointment. “Okay, what’s up with you lately? You’ve been positively chipper and it’s weird. The last time you were this cheery, you made that Chicago museum pay our shipping insurance costs. Now come clean.” Carla sits in one of the chairs in front of his desk, eyebrow raised and clearly planning to stay until he talks.

They’ve worked together for almost three years and he considers her a close friend; they’ve gone out after work for dinners and she’s his regular date during opera season. Not that she’s a date, they go as friends. They discussed it early on and they both agreed they could be great friends, but aren’t interested in each other that way. Now he hears about Carla’s steady boyfriend and Peter tells her about the occasional times he goes out on dates.

He takes a deep breath, rubs his lips and finally says, “I’m going to be a father. It should be confirmed in a couple of days.”

Carla’s jaw drops and her green eyes widen. “Oh my god! That’s amazing, I didn’t even know you were dating anyone. Are you dating anyone?”

“No, I’m not. I’m using a surrogate.” He shrugs and gives her a grin. “It was a rather sudden decision, kind of dropped in my lap from an old friend. I’ve been thinking about a family lately and it just seemed like kismet.”

“Wow, that is amazing, Peter, congratulations.” She stands and holds out her arms, saying, “Stand up, I’m gonna hug you now, and you can do that weird hair sniffing thing you do.”

Peter comes around his desk for his hug, and she tilts her head up to kiss his cheek. As promised, he rubs his face in her hair, sniffing louder than he needs to. “Lemony. Very nice,” he tells her. He may be an omega, but she feels like pack to him, teasing him like one of his sisters. She feels like family.

“You’re so strange,” Carla tells him cheerfully, giving him a squeeze before letting him go. “And you’re going to make a great Daddy. And probably a good father, too.”

Peter snorts and settles himself behind his desk. “I swear, one day I will report you to HR for sexual harassment.”

“Hair sniffer.”

“Gold digger,” he replies, according to the script. He grins and says, “I haven’t told anyone about this yet, so you can keep it…”

“Hush hush,” she agrees, nodding. “So when’s the magic day? Do you know yet?”

“Around Christmas, I think.  I don’t have the exact date of course. We have a doctor appointment on Thursday.”

Carla smiles, and tugs at her short skirt as she sits back in her chair. “You’re going? That’s good. So it’s your sperm and a borrowed egg kind of thing?”

Peter nods, unable to keep a grin off his face. “Can’t really borrow an egg of course.”

“Idiot,” she says affectionately. “But great, have those pretty Hale genes. Are you going to find out if it’s a boy or girl?”

“Not right away, of course. And I really don’t care; boy, girl, whatever.” He shrugs and raises his eyebrows drumming his fingers on his desk, more nervous energy than he’s used to. “If the doctor can tell from an ultrasound later on, I’d like that. Just for planning.”

“Well, I think it’s great and you’ll have to share the ultrasound pictures and stuff with me.” She gets up and leans over his desk to pat his shoulder. “Am I going to get to throw you a baby shower?”

“No,” he says flatly, serious expression on his face. “No showers, no nothing. Act all cute and you’ll never see the baby, that’s a promise.”

“Bastard,” she says over her shoulder as she leaves his office. “Read those papers, you have a meeting this afternoon.”

 

Stiles’ doctor is in the Haight and Peter’s trying to keep an open mind. He’s not going to assume that she’s a hemp wearing, pot smoking, patchouli smelling hippie, but even if she is, he’ll accept it because Stiles says he trusts her. And she’s a legitimate physician, he looked her up and read her Yelp reviews.

Her office is in a converted Victorian, but a lot of businesses are. Stiles is waiting outside, and smiles when Peter approaches smelling happy and anxious and with the familiar earthy-planty smell he always seems to have.

“Stop sniffing me,” Stiles says, with a grin as he turns to walk in to the doctor’s building.

“I don’t remember that in the contract,” Peter replies, reaching around to open the door for Stiles.

“Are you sure you want to go there?  Because there’s lots of things that aren’t in the contract, like am I allowed to set you on fire? Because that’s not in the contract.” Stiles grins over his shoulder and Peter takes an obvious sniff, scenting only the boy’s giddy good mood.

Peter doesn’t rise to the bait, he’s trained himself not to react to the mention or scent of fire. “She’s on the first floor? That’s good, you’ll need it when you’re huge with child,” Peter says, pushing Stiles towards the doctor’s office down the hall.

“Huge with child, who says stuff like that?”

“That is the plan,” the doctor says, looking up as they walk into the office. Peter’s pleased that it looks like a regular medical office and they’re in a small waiting room, with a closed-off desk with file cabinets and everything. 

“Hi, Aleshia,” Stiles gushes, giving her a quick hug. “Peter Hale, this is Doctor Aleshia Graham, she’s going to deliver your baby. Aleshia, this is Peter.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hale,” she says, smiling and nodding.  Peter’s not sure how old she is, her face is mostly unlined, but there’s a bit of silver in her hair, which is braided and pulled back into a loose knot. She’s wearing soft, flowing trousers and a loose blouse with a standard issue white medical jacket over it. She looks professional and friendly and smells faintly of Chanel No. 5.

She doesn’t offer to shake hands, which Peter appreciates, smiling as he says, “Call me, Peter, please.”

She nods and says, “I’m Aleshia. Now let’s get Stiles in for his test.”

 

“Today’s going to be pretty simple,” Aleshia says, making notes on a paper in her file folder. “Let’s start with the blood draw and while we get the results from the test, I’ll ask a few questions, okay?”

“Sure,” Stiles answers, pulling off his flannel shirt and holding out both arms. “Got a preference?”

“Let’s go with the left,” she says, taking a syringe off a tray on the counter. “Less likely to bruise and saves your right arm for later.” She’s very efficient when she draws his blood, quickly wrapping his arm in a bandage. “I’ll have Kyle get this started and be right back.”

“Kyle’s her assistant.” Stiles turns to Peter and explains, “He’s a nurse and training in magic. He’ll help when I have the baby and he knows about childbirth and supes, so he’ll be good on our team.”

Peter looks over from where he’s opening cabinets and drawers, checking to be sure everything looks like a standard medical office. “Team? We have a team?”

“Sure. Everyone working together for a cute little baby.”

Aleshia comes back into the room and sits down, turning her attention back to Stiles. “Okay, that’ll take just a little bit, and we’ll confirm what I think you both already know. You did the spell exactly as discussed, right?”

“Absolutely,” Stiles says nodding at both her and Peter. “Exactly, perfectly right. Yeah, so I’m totally preggers. Bun in the oven, knocked up and all that.”

“Great.” She looks at her file for a minute and turns to Peter, and says, “Stiles tells me that you and your former wife had a child, so you’re familiar with what to expect during a pregnancy.”

It still feels like he’s been hit by a bus, and said so casually. He tries to keep his emotions off his face as he says, “That’s true. Do you expect this to be like a normal pregnancy?”

“Yes,” she answers, with a quick nod. “It should progress just like any supernatural pregnancy. Meaning, he may have slightly less morning sickness and may be less tired during the first trimester or so.”

“My wife had morning sickness the first trimester, but we were able to control it with ginger ale and saltines. Generally.” Peter smiles at Stiles who scratches his head and looks like he might vomit right now.

“That’s good. You still have a few weeks before you might get morning sickness and generally it’ll stop by the end of the first trimester.” Aleshia focuses on Stiles and says, “I’ll want to see you a little more often than my other patients. Probably every other week initially and then monthly through the second trimester. We’ll see how you do as you go along.”

“Peter will be coming with me, we discussed that, right?” Stiles asks, reaching over and giving Peter’s hand an unexpected squeeze.

_He’s nervous_ , Peter thinks.

“Of course, we always want to have the father involved. And you’re still moving into Peter’s house, right?”

Stiles nods and says, “Saturday, I think. If all goes well here today and you can confirm…”

Aleshia hums quietly and makes notes in her file. “And it’s really important to have Peter here as much as possible because Stiles won’t be around after the birth; this is Peter’s baby.”

Kyle comes in grinning broadly and hands a piece of paper to the doctor, staying next to her and rocking back and forth on his heels. _It’s no wonder Stiles likes him_ , Peter thinks.

Aleshia smiles, looking happier than Peter thinks is strictly professional.  “Congratulations. I’d say that by New Year’s Eve, you’re going to be a father, Peter.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles moves in.

Friday is a regular work day for Peter, thankfully one that he can work from home. He’s much more productive at his home office, without coworkers coming in a flopping down in one his chairs to talk about plans for the weekend or whatever their kid is doing or “did you see blah blah blah on TV last night?” If he had a choice, he’d never go into the office.

He phones Carla, knowing that if he doesn’t call her, she’ll call him. And she’ll chastise him for that as well.

“Well?” she asks in greeting.

“Well, when are you going to email the Genoa contracts?”

“When I feel like it, which will probably be after you tell me how your doctor visit went,” Carla answers and Peter can hear her keyboard clicking in the background. “So the doctor confirmed there’s a bun in the oven?”

Peter sighs loudly. “Yes, Carla, as you so elegantly put it, there’s a bun in the oven. We’re knocked up.”

“That’s great, right? You have to be so excited!” She squeals, which is a new sound that Peter associates with women and babies.

“Yes, I’m excited. But there’s a long time until there’s an actual baby, so I’m trying to just do normal things. Like my job, remember my job, Carla? The reason you have a job.”

“Yeah, yeah, only you could make this sound like a chore.” She sighs and after a moment says, “So, everything’s okay though, right? You have a contract signed right? I know you said they’re a friend, but…”

“Yes, we have a contract, and I’m confident there won’t be a problem.” Peter sits back at his desk, and clicks to update his email. “So can you send me the work contract now, please? Because work?”

Carla sighs again, clearly put out that Peter isn’t more forthcoming. “Okay, I’m sending you the boring contract. And next week, we’re going to take a long lunch and you’re going to fill me in a bit more. So have a good weekend and see you Monday.”

“Thank you, Carla and yes, we’ll talk next week. I think I just need a bit of time to get used to the idea,” Peter says, rubbing his forehead. “I do absolutely want this, but it’s still a bit of adjustment. So thanks for your patience.”

“Ah, I love you, too, honey, you know I can’t stay mad. Like I said, have a good weekend and see you soon.”

“You, too,” he says, chuckling and hangs up.

 

The contract takes about thirty minutes to review, and then he files it, ready to send it later. There’s no need to let everyone know how quickly he reviews the three changes.  But now he has time on his hands until evening, when he can go for a run or do something to take care of his excess energy.

He doesn’t regularly have maids in the house; he doesn’t like strangers around, but twice a year he’ll have a service come in and do a thorough cleaning. He had this done earlier in the week, to give it enough time for the house to air out and the chemical smells to leave. Even with unscented, natural products, there’s still a leftover smell and especially on days like today, it annoys him.

Peter wanders around the house, making sure everything’s clean and the windows are open. He checks the kitchen cabinets, looking at the few supplies he’s brought in. Baked chips, wheat crackers, candied ginger, nuts, the crunchy peanut butter that he remembers Stiles liking – assuming his tastes haven’t changed in the years since he’s seen him. There’s milk and cranberry juice in the fridge, along with a loaf of multi-grain bread and sliced meats from the deli. Lots of fresh vegetables in the fridge and fruit ripening on the counter.

Of course, they’ll go to the grocery store to get Stiles other things he’d like, but this should cover them for the first day or so. Peter’s not certain that Stiles cooks, he remembers talk about keeping his father on a healthy diet, so he must do some cooking. Either way, Peter expects he’ll prepare most of the meals, that way he can control the fat and salt content.

Peter’s already bookmarked several websites that discuss a good diet for a pregnant woman, along with sites on child development. After looking at a few, he remembers more things from when Tricia was pregnant and how they were able to adjust her diet to be more liberal as she was carrying a werewolf child. Even without knowing if the child will be wolf or human, the fetus is generally hardier than a regular, fully human baby. Miscarriages aren’t common with wolf genetics. Although none of this takes into account a magic pregnancy in a man.

He does a quick tour of the guest room, which will be Stiles’ room, making sure everything is clean, fresh and ready. There’s new linens and he put an extra blanket on the bed, remembering how Stiles’ feet were always cold. He’s added an extra plant on the dresser, an English Ivy, that’s pretty and is supposed to be healthy to have in the house. He looks out the patio doors, which leads to the smaller deck; it’s a nice view, not as nice as the ocean view from his room, but he thinks Stiles will like it. He planted sage for cooking a few years ago and put in some small pots of chamomile recently. They’re doing well and maybe Stiles will want to help take care of them and the other plants on both patios. If there’s other plants that Stiles wants, there’s certainly room to add more. Peter’s thinking he can put the pots on raised tables so the boy won’t need to bend over.

Peter goes back to his office and sends the contract to their client, with a copy back to Carla so she’ll know it’s done. It still gets dark fairly early, so he’ll have a quick sandwich and get ready to run off some of his nervous energy. Tomorrow’s a big day, Stiles and his baby are moving in.

 

Stiles texts him around ten to let him know he’s awake and ready to be picked up at noon. Or at least that’s what Peter gets out of the message, as Stiles uses annoying text-talk, with lots of missing letters and made up abbreviations that probably make sense only to him. 

Having none of that, and being naturally impatient, Peter phones him. “I think you’re saying to come over at noon, is that right?”

“You could have texted, you know. That would be the proper response to a text, a text back,” Stiles answers, but there’s a happy tone to his response. “And yeah, noon or thereabouts works. I have just a few things, I can probably get most of it in my jeep, maybe just need a bag or two in your car, if that’s okay.”

Peter takes a breath and tries not to let his irritation show. “Certainly, whatever works for you, Stiles.”

The boy snorts and says, “You’re being really agreeable, it’s making me nervous. Not sure this is the same Peter Hale I remember.”

“I’m probably not. I’m guessing you aren’t either or you wouldn’t agree to doing this,” Peter says, straightening out the cushions on his couch one more time. “So I’ll call you when I’m outside your apartment. I’m guessing the parking in your neighborhood is abysmal?”

“Pull into the lot around the back, there’s a few guest parking spaces. Or just double park, we won’t be long.” Peter hears shuffling in the back, what sounds like dishes hitting each other. He hopes Stiles isn’t planning on packing up his kitchen, Peter’s should more than suffice.

“I’ll phone you when I’m there,” Peter repeats and hangs up. He does one last walk through the house and then grabs a book to go out on the deck and read for a bit. After a couple of minutes, he realizes it’s futile and just sits and looks at the ocean, trying not to check his watch repeatedly waiting until it’s time to leave.

 

Actually getting Stiles to his new home isn’t difficult. When Peter calls, parked next to Stiles familiar blue jeep, Stiles quickly comes out, followed by Danny. Stiles has a bag for his laptop over one shoulder and a black plastic garbage bag over the other. “Hey, Peter, this is pretty much the rest of it. We already put my game stuff in my jeep. This is just…” Stiles shrugs and starts to flip the garbage bag off his shoulder and Peter catches it easily.

“This is what exactly?” Peter asks, putting the bag into the back seat of his car, giving it a subtle sniff.

“My clothes,” Stiles says, shrugging sheepishly. “I don’t really have a suitcase, I don’t travel much, I guess. And no one wants to lend a suitcase for nine months and…” He blows out a breath and looks over to Danny as though for help.

“It’s fine, Stiles. As we discussed, you’re going to outgrow your shirts and pants, so no point in bringing everything.”

“True,” Danny says, putting his boxes into Peter’s trunk. “So you got this, right? You two can handle the unpacking?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Stiles says, glancing at Peter whose lips quick. “We got it from here, thanks for your help, Danny.”

Peter leans against his car and watches the two embrace, with cheek kisses, back slaps and whispers that Peter doesn’t try to hear. “You know, you’ll see each other soon, if you want. We’ll have visiting hours once a week for an hour at a time. Of course, you’ll be on the telephone, with plexiglass between you…”

“Funny, I’m being kidnapped by a comedian,” Stiles says and moves towards his jeep. “Okay, Peter, I guess I’m all yours.”

 

Peter pulls in his garage, being careful to leave enough room for Stiles.  The boy pulls in next to him and quickly gets out of his jeep.

“Damn, Peter, this is gorgeous.” Stiles bolts out of the garage and runs to the front of the house and then back around to the other side. “I think I’ll be able to stay here for nine months.”

“Well, let’s get you inside so you can take a look before you gush,” Peter answers, taking the two boxes out of the trunk. “Do you want to grab your bag of clothes and I’ll come down for the rest later?”

Stiles grabs his bag and follows Peter into the house. “All this stuff goes in my room. I did bring my Play Station, so maybe I can connect that in the…living room or something?”

“Sure, if you’d like,” Peter answers, and leads the way into the house. “I have an Xbox, so we’ll have plenty of options.  Kitchen and dining room, obviously. We’ll go grocery shopping when you’re ready, I think I have enough to cover us for a couple of days.” He walks further and says, “Living room here; of course you’re welcome to be in any room in the house, except my office, which is through there,” he says, pointing to a closed door off the living room. “I’ll let you examine everything at your leisure. The bedrooms are upstairs; go ahead and lead the way.”

Stiles bolts up the stairs and Peter can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Take a left at the top of the stairs and your room is the first room.”

“Wow, this is nice, too,” he says, dumping the bag on the bed. “I mean like hotel nice. People really live here?”

“This is a guest room, so it’s not used a lot, but yes, actual humans have stayed here.” Peter sets the boxes on the dresser and leans against it. “The dressers are both empty, I think there may be some old clothes in the bottom drawer, stuff that was left behind. If it bothers you or you need the room, let me know and I’ll get it cleared out. Closet’s open of course.”

Stiles nods and looks out the patio door before turning back to Peter. He smells happy and his excitement is contagious, making Peter smile. “Is this my deck? Can I go out here?”

“Of course,” Peter answers, with a chuckle. “It’s private, and no one can see into it, so if you decide nude sunbathing is your thing, go for it. Although you know summers in San Francisco can still be chilly.”

“I know, I know, especially out here by the ocean. But I’ll sit outside wrapped in a blanket, it’s really cool.” He stops and notices the plants, squatting down next to a small planter, and gently lifting some of the leaves. “These are nice, looks like some are established and some are new?”

“Thank you and yes. There’s a few more on the other deck, if you’d like to plant anything, let me know, I’m sure we can find the right amount of sun.”

Stiles looks over the edge of the deck, checking the neighborhood and looking out at the ocean. “Yeah, maybe a couple things, if it’s okay with you. There’s a couple of teas that I like, after the first trimester, of course.”

Peter nods and goes back into what he’s quickly come to think of as Stiles’ room and points to a box leaning against the wall. “New TV, I haven’t had a chance to put it up; maybe we can do that later today or tomorrow. Although, of course, you’re not locked in here. The TV in the living room is larger.”

“Cool,” Stiles answers, running a hand over the box. “And thanks for all this, it’s really a lot nicer than I expected. I mean, I didn’t think you’d live in a hovel or make me live in closet under the stairs, but it’s really…it’s really nice, thanks.”

“Of course, Stiles,” Peter says, with a small grin. “I did make you move out of your home. And you’re carrying my child, so I want you to be comfortable. I’d even go so far as to say I want you to be happy.”

Stiles nods and moves towards the doorway, looking out in the hallway. “Sure, that’s great, but still, thanks. So where’s your room?”

Peter slips past him and points down the hall in the opposite direction. “Laundry room and linen closet is that way. I’ll give you a laundry lesson if you need it and help yourself to anything in the closet. And I’m back this way.”

They pass a closed room and Peter enters through double doors into what’s obviously the master bedroom. The large French doors with a view of the Pacific ocean dominates the room.

“Damn, you must have bucket loads of money,” Stiles says, looking around. “Is it weird to want to look at your bathroom? I kinda have a thing about bathrooms.”

Peter snorts and says, “Help yourself,” gesturing to a closed door with his chin.

There’s a quiet moan from the room and when Stiles comes out he says, “It’s everything I would have imagined. I didn’t look at my bathroom, now I need to go look.”

“It’s not quite as big, but I think you’ll like it. You big freak.” Peter smiles and uses a finger to push Stiles to the deck. “Few more plants out here, I’m willing to let you take care of them, at least for a few months. And the ones on the deck downstairs, too.”

“You’re being way too good to me, Peter,” Stiles answer with a smirk, coming back into the bedroom. “Worrying that I might get bored.”

He walks out of Peter’s bedroom and knocks on the closed door. “What’s in here?”

Peter opens the door and shows Stiles a mostly empty room. He can’t keep from smiling when he says, “This will be the baby’s room.”

Stiles nudges Peter’s shoulder when he moves past him and says, “Nice. I think I’m gonna like it here.”

“Well, I think it’s good for both of us that you’re happy. Now go check out your bathroom and I’ll bring in the rest of your things from your jeep so you can unpack and get comfortable.”

Stiles grins and goes into the guest bathroom, squeaking at what he finds there. Peter smiles, shaking his head as he goes downstairs to bring up the remaining items to move Stiles into his new home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is settled into Peter's house and they deal with morning sickness.

“So how’s it going?” Scott asks, leaning back in his chair, balancing his PC on his lap. “You still doing okay?”

“Yeah, of course, Scott.” Stiles gets comfortable on his bed, rearranging his tablet so he can keep half an eye on the TV at the same time he’s skyping with his friend. “How’s things back home, you keeping the hills safe?”

Scott grins and says, “Absolutely, although you can come check it out if you want. You know you’ll always have a room here.” He has his own apartment now, sharing it with Kira. They’re doing the same on-and-off again stuff that Scott did with Allison a million years ago, but even when they’re dating other people, they manage to stay friends.

“Yeah, thanks, but no. Work, and doctor visits and stuff…” Stiles shrugs and says, “No time right now.”

“Umm hmm. So have you told your dad yet?”

“Nope. I know I’ll have to, but I figure I will when I actually have a belly as some proof,” Stiles answers. “Definitely before Thanksgiving, I know he’ll want us to get together. He’ll be okay with it, I think, he’s used to my weird things.”

“If you say so.” Scott fidgets in his chair and leans forward as though that’ll help him see more. “So there’s no belly yet? Do you have morning sickness? Has Peter heard the baby’s heart beat yet?”

“No, maybe and I don’t know,” Stiles answers and moves his tablet so Scott can see his still flat stomach. “See, nothing yet. Remember it’s only the size of a peanut. I’ll send you a pic of my fat belly when I get one. And my man-boobs, whether you want to see them or not.” He scratches his head and shrugs, saying, “I don’t know about the morning sickness stuff yet. Sometimes I feel like of weird, a little nauseous, but I haven’t thrown up. I’m not looking forward to that, even though I suppose it’s coming. Peter’s been giving me peppermint tea before I get up, so maybe that’s helping. When I start ralphing, I’ll give you all the gory details, don’t worry.”

“And the baby’s heartbeat? When can he hear it?” Scott asks, anxious little puppy he is.

“I don’t know,” Stiles shrugs, and glances over his shoulder. Peter’s somewhere in the house, and Stiles hasn’t heard him for the last hour or so. “He hasn’t said anything. He’s gone to the doctor with me the last three weeks. I don’t need to go back for another month now, which is cool. But he hasn’t said anything and I’m pretty sure he will when he hears the baby. He’s really excited about it.”

“And things are cool there, right? He’s treating you well?” Scott asks and his eyes briefly flash red.

“Calm down, Scotty, we’re fine. He’s not the psycho you remember; he’s a suit and tie guy with a fancy coffee-maker that I can’t use, who shops at gourmet stores. And he’s a really good cook.” Stiles pauses, thinking about the month he’s been at the house. “He’s taking really good care of us,” he says, patting his belly.

“Stiles,” Peter’s voice comes from the hallway. “Orphan Black starts in a few minutes; do you want to watch or should I record it for later?”

“Coming right out!” he yells back and then turns back to his conversation. “Hey, I gotta go, our show’s on. I’ll talk with you next week, okay?”

Scott shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Sure, go cuddle on the couch or whatever you do. I’ll text you during the week.”

“’Kay, bye. Kiss Kira for me, if that’s what you’re doing now,” he says and puts the tablet on the bedside table. For this show, he even concentrates and doesn’t multi-task.

 

“I’m ready, thanks for holding it,” Stiles says, and he settles into the recliner he claimed the night he moved in. He puts his glass of milk on the table next to him and rests his plate of peanut butter toast on the pillow he pulls into his lap.

“Certainly,” Peter replies and settles back as well, smiling slightly as he glances at Stiles’ evening snack. It’s probably a little more caloric than he should eat, but Stiles is still goes non-stop during the day; he probably uses up a couple hundred calories twitching in his chair.

They’re quiet watching the show, just the occasional comment when something surprising happens. Peter has a set “no talking during the show” rule and after the first week, Stiles has learned to comply. He won’t tell Peter, but he actually is catching new things in movies he’s already seen.

When there’s a commercial, Peter asks, “Everything okay with Scott?”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Stiles answers. “You eavesdropping?”

There’s no heat in Stiles question and he smells content. “I wasn’t trying to, but it’s hard not to hear a bit. I went outside while you were talking. He’s free to visit, if you’d like.”

Stiles snorts and glances over at Peter. “Really? You’d hate that. A strange wolf in your territory, and an alpha wolf at that? I can’t see that happening.”

Peter takes a breath and wills himself to relax. He’s a long way from Beacon Hills, both physically and mentally. “I probably wouldn’t like it, but I know he’s your friend and as I’ve said repeatedly, I want you to be comfortable. So if you’d like him to visit, I’d make it work. I can go into the office for the day or something so you have privacy and he’ll be more comfortable. He probably won’t like being in another’s wolf’s home.”

“Aw, it’s sweet that you’d do that. But Scott doesn’t leave home a lot.” He shrugs and sets his empty plate on the table next to him, saying, “Show’s on, gotta be quiet, it’s the rules.”

“Offer’s open,” Peter says, taking a sip of his wine. He checks Stiles’ scent and confirms that he’s fine, not really upset about their discussion. Peter’s glad he offered but happier that it probably won’t happen.

During the next break, Stiles looks over and says, “So do you have a pack here or an alpha or anything? I thought wolves weren’t good alone.”

“I don’t have an alpha,” Peter answers slowly. “It’s a bit different here, since there’s so many people and actually quite a few wolves. There’s a few wolves I know of, and occasionally see or run with if the mood takes me. It’s fine, Stiles, I’m not in danger of going feral, you’re completely safe.”

Stiles snorts again and burrows into his chair, pulling a blanket over his lap. “I know that, Peter, I’m not worried about me. Besides, I’m in your pack now,” he says, giving Peter a cheeky smile.

Peter raises an eyebrow and goes back to watching their show, trying to keep a smile off his face.

 

Unfortunately, morning sickness hits right on schedule, at about six weeks. Stiles barely makes it to the bathroom and after throwing up he curls up on the floor, moaning. “I’m dying. That’s okay, I’ll just stay here and rot.”

“Stay still and sip this,” Peter says, kneeling on the floor next to Stiles. He puts a mug next to him, slipping the straw between Stiles’ lips. “We’ll find something to help with the nausea.”

Stiles sips slowly, keeping his eyes shut. “This is good, what is it?”

“Ginger tea. There’s also ginger ale, but I thought you might appreciate the warmth, since you’ve crashed on the marble floor you love so much.” He brushes Stiles’ hair off his forehead and asks, “Feeling any better?”

“Little bit, maybe,” Stiles answers. “I don’t know about sitting up yet. And yeah, marble is cold.”

“No rush. Try opening your eyes though.”

He opens one eye and then the other, smiling cautiously. “I think this is good. Just let me sit a little bit, okay?”

“Absolutely. I’m going to go get some crackers for you. Just be still and drink a little more tea. Do you need a blanket?” Peter doesn’t wait for an answer, coming back with a throw he keeps on a chair in his room.

“’S nice,” Stiles says, leaning against the wall and snuggling into the blanket, tea in hand. “Crackers help?”

“They always helped Tricia,” he says, smiling slightly. “Of course, since she was a wolf, I think it might not have been as bad.” He’s back in just a minute with a handful of crackers wrapped in a napkin. “Want to try one?” he says gently, kneeling down again.

“Sure,” he says, keeping his eyes shut as he eats a saltine. “I also noticed in the last week, I’ve become really tired. I mean, I take a nap when I get home from work and sleep through the night, but I’m still tired. That’s normal, right?”

“Um hm. Remember, Aleshia said that would happen. Probably through the first trimester.” He sits back and watches Stiles eat another cracker, the color slowly coming back into his face as he rests and sips more tea. “You can stop working whenever you’d like, you know. I certainly don’t have a problem with it.”

“I can’t really, if I want my job afterwards,” Stiles answers with a small shrug and a quiet burp. “If I go with the knee replacement story, I can probably take off four months. Ideally, I think I’d like to take off at least four months before and then probably a month after. I mean, I’ll go back to work and still look like a fatty, but should be able to work. Aleshia said she has a doctor who’ll write me a disability claim when I want it.”

“Post-partum is a long way off, let’s get you through your first trimester and then figure out next steps from there.” Peter scrubs a hand through his hair and looks at his watch before standing. “I’ve got to go get dressed, I have a meeting today. Maybe you should think about going in late today if you go in at all?”

Stiles sips more tea and experiments with turning his head. “Maybe. Actually, I’m feeling much better; I might try to get another hour of sleep. Hopefully my morning sickness will only be in the morning and not all day.”

Peter watches him carefully, taking the used napkin and crumbling it up to toss it in the trash can. “I’m usually up before you, I’ll have a cup of tea ready for you when you wake up. Drink it while you’re still in bed eat a couple of crackers. We’ll see if that works. Oh, and take some candied ginger with you to work, that might help if you feel queasy during the day. Or just tell them you’re sick and come home.”

“Okay, thanks,” Stiles says and holds out his hands so Peter can pull him up.

“How do you feel?” he asks, studying Stiles, who stands holding the edge of the sink.

“Okay,” the boy says, and cocks his head to study Peter. “You know, you’re being very nice. I think you’re going to be a good father. I’m glad I’m having this baby for you.”

“Thank you and I’m glad you’re having my baby, too.” Peter walks him back to his bedroom and looks around the room as Stiles gingerly gets back in bed. Most of his clothes are actually in drawers, although there’s still a pair of jeans and a couple of shirts tossed on a chair in the corner and yesterday’s socks are on the floor underneath. The room looks lived in in a way it never has before. Peter straightens the blanket out that’s on the foot of the bed and says, “Let me know if you’re going into work today. We’ll have to watch the morning sickness and tell your doctor when you go next.”

“Don’t have to go again for another few weeks,” Stiles mutters and Peter smells that he’s already half-asleep and drooling into his pillow.

“That’s fine, as long as we keep it under control.” He runs a hand across Stiles’ head and tucks the covers around his neck, getting a snort back.

“Go to work, we’re fine.”

 

Peter knows he’s grinning when he gets to his office and the first thing he does is point a finger at Carla and says, “No. Just no.”

She laughs gets back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to write this from Peter's point of view, which I don't usually do. But no way to get that with Stiles' conversation with Scott, so the exception to the rule.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has nightmares, Peter takes care of him and new living arrangements seem to happen.

_He smells it, the fire. There’s the smoky smell of wood and plastic burning. Something electric and something sharp like gasoline or kerosene. It’s loud, like the roar of dozens of wolves, but it’s not wolf howls that he hears; he hears them screaming. It’s not even words any more, it’s screams of pain and terror. He tries to run into the building, into what’s been his family’s home for as long as he can remember, but he’s pushed back by the heat and some other force that won’t let him enter.  He sees his sister’s hands reaching through the grates they installed in the basement; they were supposed to protect them from intruders, not be the thing that kills them. He sees his wife standing on the front porch, crying, holding their son and reaching for him and then they’re gone, swallowed up by the fire. He hears Stiles crying, yelling “No, no, I won’t, you can’t make me, leave me alone!” and it’s his panicked heartbeat and the too fast heartbeat of his baby that makes him jump up and run to the boy._

He runs into Stiles’ room with a growl, throwing open the door, shifted with claws out and fangs dropped, ready to fight whatever is putting his family in danger. He looks around and sees the boy thrashing on his bed, still moaning and muttering “no no no” in his sleep. Peter scents the room and looks around and doesn’t see any threat; he moves to the edge of the bed, and pulls Stiles into his arms, smoothing his hair back and crooning, “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s only a dream,” as he tries to get his own panic under control.

Stiles whimpers and initially fights him, before he virtually melts into Peter’s arms. “I’m okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeats back, and Peter isn’t sure if he’s talking to him or to himself.

When Stiles’ breathing slows and he squirms a little, Peter loosens his hold, the scent of Stiles’ embarrassment suddenly strong.

“Sorry I woke you,” Stiles says, scrubbing his hand into his eyes like a child. “I haven’t had a nightmare like that for a while.”

“It’s not a problem,” Peter assures him, rubbing his hand down Stiles’ back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, it was…”

“Stop apologizing. It was a nightmare, it happens,” Peter says, and looks at the sheets which are in a tangle hanging off the bed. “Do you want to take a shower or just change clothes? You’re soaked through.”

“I’m okay,” Stiles says, shrugging. “I may just stay up a bit before I try to go back to sleep.”

Peter shakes his head and tries not to wrinkle his nose at the bitter smell of Stiles’ panic-sweat, which has seeped into his clothes and bedding. “Change your clothes and I’ll make us a cup of tea. It’s early, you can get a few more hours of sleep before you have to get up for work.”

Stiles gets up sluggishly, stumbling as he moves to one of the dressers, pulling out a clean t-shirt and boxers. “Tea sounds okay, thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Peter stops in his own room to crack open a window and change his shirt before he goes to the kitchen and plugs in the kettle. He takes out the mugs he thinks of as his and Stiles’ and takes out the container of Stiles’ ginger tea. He’ll drink Earl Gray, as the caffeine won’t bother him. Stiles comes out of his room and slumps on the couch just as the tea is ready.

“Thanks, Peter.” Stiles says, holding the cup to his chest, sipping it carefully.

Peter pulls a blanket over Stiles’ shoulder and sits at the other end of the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Stiles pulls the blanket around him and drinks more tea, glancing over at Peter. “You left. After the nogitsune, you just took off. I mean, I can’t blame you, but…” He shrugs and looks into his cup, eyelids starting to droop. “Damn, I’m still so tired. I hate feeling like this, it reminds me of then. I couldn’t sleep enough and I never felt warm.”

“Finish your tea and we’ll go back to bed,” Peter says. He watches as Stiles takes a couple more sips, head nodding, and then jerking himself back awake. After the second time this happens, Peter stands and holds out his hand. “Bed time, you can barely stay awake.”

“Yeah, please,” Stiles mutters, leaning against Peter, letting him half-lead, half-drag him towards the bedrooms.

When Peter’s tucking him into bed, Stiles wakes up enough to murmur, “This is your room,” before his head hits the pillow and he’s snoring quietly.

The wolf gets under the covers, glad that Stiles apparently doesn’t sleep on his chosen side of the bed. It’s nice having the bit of warmth and listening to the calm heartbeats from both the boy and his cub. It’s not something Peter expects he’ll get every night, so he takes it when he can get it. He’s not even bothered when Stiles’ cold feet search his warmer legs. He rolls over, pulling the boy’s back into his chest, burying his face in Stiles’ neck and falls asleep listening to the steady thrum of his baby’s heartbeat.

 

Stiles wakes up when the sun comes through the windows, still wrapped up in Peter’s arms. “Well, this is different,” he says quietly, almost to himself.

“You should go back to sleep, it’s still early, and you don’t need to be up yet,” Peter whispers, his breath tickling Stiles’ ear. “Unless you think you’re going to vomit, in which case I’d prefer you not do it in my bed.”

“Think I’m okay,” Stiles answers cautiously. “This isn’t quite the right time for me to puke, that would be earlier. I think if I haven’t puked by now, then I won’t. Probably.”

“Let me know if you need me to get up and get you some tea or crackers,” Peter says, pulling Stiles closer to him and resting a hand on the slight curve of his belly. “Although if you don’t, I’m quite happy to stay here a bit longer.”

“Thanks. This is…comfy. Not what I expected,” Stiles whispers. “Thank you for letting me sleep here, and sorry about waking you up and startling you and…”

Peter sighs and softly bites Stiles’ shoulder. “It was a nightmare, and they happen. They happen to me, too. And it’s not a problem letting you sleep here, I like it. It’s comforting having you here; I can hear the baby’s heartbeat and you smell like pack.”

Stiles turns his head carefully, as though he’s trying to avoid triggering any nausea. “You can hear the baby’s heartbeat? Already? And you decided not to mention it because…”

Peter grins before putting his nose back into Stiles’ shoulder. “I assumed you knew? Or you could feel him.”

“Asshole,” Stiles says, turning back over and snuggling back into Peter. “I won’t be able to feel him move until he’s four months or so – so not for another month.”

“Great, no more barfing and the baby moves. Should be a good month,” Peter says and starts to fall back asleep.

“Do you know it’s a him or are you just saying that?” Stiles asks quietly. Peter pulls Stiles’ cold feet closer, ignoring his question. In another couple of minutes they’re both asleep.

 

Peter leaves the usual breakfast for Stiles; a bowl of fruit and a whole wheat English muffin ready for toasting. If he eats slowly enough, it usually stays down. Peter will grab coffee and a bagel from the coffee shop in his building.  

There’s a couple of meetings during the day and when those are done, Peter heads out with some papers to be reviewed after dinner. When he gets home, he finds Stiles napping on the couch, with a movie playing on the television. Peter turns down the volume slightly, and lets him sleep while he puts together a quick dinner. It’s just chicken, potatoes and green beans, but he knows Stiles will eat everything and possibly seconds. When everything’s ready, he fixes a plate for Stiles to eat in the living room.  

“Are you up for a little food?” he asks, setting the plate on the table in front of Stiles.

Stiles yawns and sits up, rubbing his stomach. “Yeah, I’m starving. Thanks, Peter.” He takes his plate and eats, quiet except for little groans and grunts as he shovels the food in. “I don’t know why I’m so hungry, the baby’s only a peanut still. Did you know that he’s only about four ounces? So there’s no reason I should be eating ten pounds of food a day.”

“You are eating a lot, but I try to make sure you’re eating healthy foods. Let me know if you want more, there’s more chicken and peas.” Peter says, sitting with his plate at the dining room table. He gets a glass of wine with dinner and has his laptop open, reading the files from work.

After dinner, Stiles takes their dishes and puts the plates in the dishwasher, quickly doing the items to be hand washed. Peter’s never asked him to, but it seems to be how their division of labor works, at least for now. “Working on anything interesting?” he asks, sitting at the table across from Peter.

“Hmm, nothing amazing. There’s a traveling exhibit of items from the 1906 earthquake, I’m working on the contracts for that. It’s pretty standard.” He stops and pours himself another half-glass of wine, rubbing his eyes and looking at his watch. “It’s later than I thought; I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.”

Stiles yawns and looks at the clock in the living room. “Me, too. I’m looking forward to not being dead tired all the time. When’s that supposed to happen? Soon, I think.”

“You’ll feel better in the second trimester, so yes, pretty soon,” Peter answers. “Basically the first trimester is sleeping and throwing up. Your second trimester will be better for both.”

“Thank goodness.” He stretches and yawns again, then slumps back in his chair. “Oh crap, I should have changed the sheets when I got home. They’re probably nasty from last night; nightmare sweat isn’t nice and smells still make me puke. Well, I’m gonna go do that and go to bed.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll help you,” Peter says, giving his laptop one final look before he starts to shut it down.

“No, it’s okay, Peter, I’m way too tired. I can sleep there tonight, and maybe you can help me tomorrow.” Stiles smiles and gets up. “I mean, I should be able to stand my own smell, right?”

“Of course, if you’d like. Or I’ll help you change the sheets. Or you can sleep in my room tonight. I really don’t mind.” Peter tries to keep the comment casual, not looking up from putting away his files and laptop to take back to the office tomorrow.

Stiles snorts quietly and says, “Thanks, I appreciate that, but I’m thinking you don’t really want me there. It can’t help you sleep.”

“Stiles, is this where I have to say _again_ that I don’t ever offer to do things that I don’t want to? Remember me, completely selfish?”

The boy grins, swaying on his feet. After a moment he says, “I think I fell asleep for a second there. If you don’t mind me hogging the covers, you are pretty warm and my feet get real cold.”

“Brush your teeth and get into bed, I’ll turn off out here and be in in a minute,” Peter replies, grinning. He did tell the truth; he likes having the boy and his cub sleeping with him.

The next day, they forget to remake Stiles’ bed. On Saturday, Peter strips both beds to throw the sheets in the wash, but somehow Stiles never quite makes it back into his room.  
 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles tells his father, and stops working. They have another doctor visit. And maybe stuff happens in bed.

Peter’s on the deck facing the ocean, in one of the chaise lounges half reading a magazine and half dozing. Stiles has been on the phone with his dad, planning to announce his pregnancy, so Peter wants to give him some privacy.

After almost an hour, the boy comes out, eyes red rimmed and smelling depressed. He moves one of the lounges next to Peter and lowers himself carefully. For the last week or so, he’s been slightly clumsy, trying to adjust to the new center of gravity.

San Francisco in June is cool, especially by the ocean, and it’s just about 60 degrees out; comfortable for Peter, slightly chilly for Stiles, who arranges a cotton blanket on his lap. Peter’s not sure if the fog never burned off today or if it’s just back again already. “Do you want me to get you a sweater?” he asks, glancing over at Stiles.

“No, thank you, I’m okay. The chill’s kinda nice; I guess I’m at the hot flash stage,” Stiles answers and gives a wan smile, still smelling depressed, bitter and vinegary.

“I take it your call with your father didn’t go well?” Peter offers. He’ll let Stiles decide how much he wants to talk, that seems best with the boy. It’s one thing he remembers from Beacon Hills and apparently it hasn’t changed.

“Well, I told him what I’m doing and no, he’s not thrilled.  Apparently, this is slightly better than when I learned to set things on fire…”

“I agree with that,” Peter interrupts, smiling.

Stiles chuckles softly and continues, “But definitely not as good as when I was making plants bloom. Dad liked that.”

“That sounds pleasant and harmless. He prefers that sort of thing?”

“Of course.” Stiles sits quietly for a while and Peter waits because that’s all he can do. Pushing Stiles to do anything isn’t helpful; the boy has quite a bite himself. After a couple of minutes, Stiles says, “He thinks it’s stupid and dangerous and doesn’t understand why I’d want to do something like this. I tried to explain it and I guess he’s going to be okay with it, you know, accept it? I mean, it’s not like he has a choice. It’s not his body or his life, right?”

“Do you want to go visit him? Or should I talk with him, if that would help?” Peter asks, handing a glass of juice over to Stiles.

“Thanks, but I can’t see that helping,” Stiles answers, snorting quietly. “I didn’t mention you by name, just that I was having the baby for someone who would be a good parent and you know, stuff like that.”

“Probably for the best, I suspect he’s not my number one fan. Probably not in the top one hundred,” Peter says. Stiles seems calmer, rubbing the slight swell of his belly. It’s barely more than a curve, but he seems to like touching it and Peter has to admit, he loves seeing the tiny bump. “What about going to see him?”

“We talked about me coming back for Thanksgiving, as usual. I told him that I’d be huge by then, so it would depend on how I’m feeling,” he says, shrugging. “I think he’s okay with that. I mean, maybe not okay, but at least he understands it.”

“And you’re okay?” Peter asks, nodding towards Stiles’ hand on his stomach.

Stiles startles and looks down at his hand as though he’s surprised to find it there. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I guess, it’s just a habit now.” He shrugs again and wraps the blanket around his legs. “Everything seem okay to you? The pup sounds okay?”

Peter looks over and pretends to concentrate on Stiles’ stomach, as though he’s trying to hear the baby’s heartbeat. In reality, he hears it constantly, twice as fast as Stiles’, but both familiar and calming to him. “Child, please. Cub if you must. And he’s fine, I think he likes it when you rub his home.”

“Still not sure he’s a he, but maybe we’ll find out in a week or so with the ultrasound.” Stiles pauses and sips his juice while looking over at Peter. “Do you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Maybe. Probably. I mean I don’t intend to paint the room pink if it’s a girl, but I’d like to have an idea of what names to concentrate on. And it would be nice to use an appropriate pronoun.”

“On behalf of those of us saddled with horrid names, please be kind to your child.” Stiles pulls the blanket up to his neck, tucking his arms underneath it. Peter can see that he still has a hand on his belly, soothing his baby. “I’m gonna take a quick nap out here, that okay?”

“Certainly, sleep all you want,” Peter tells him, happy that his home is comfortable. “Do you need another blanket?”

“Nope, this is good, thanks.” He opens one eye and smiles at Peter. “Everything’s good, thanks.”

 

A few nights later and Stiles is quiet over dinner. Peter serves him pasta and sausages with sautéed broccoli and watches Stiles push the pasta around his plate.

“Something wrong? Would you prefer something else?” Peter asks quietly, nudging the cup of shredded cheese towards Stiles. That usually works, the boy eats parmesan as quickly as Peter can shred it.

“No, it’s good, I think I’m just a little tired and it was kind of a weird day at work,” Stiles says, wiping up some sauce with his garlic bread. “Someone told me that I’m getting a beer belly. I guess it’s time for me to quit, huh?”

Peter tries to keep his face neutral when he says, “We planned that you’d stop when you were in your second trimester and starting to show. So yes, this seems to be about the right time.” He tries to pick up Stiles’ scent, but with all the food in between them, he can’t. “What has you worried?”

“I’m not worried, exactly,” Stiles says, finally twirling some spaghetti onto his fork. “It’s just weird, you know? I worked the summer before college, I worked all through college, I just haven’t not worked. And I look like I have a beer belly.”

Peter sips his wine and smiles at the boy, who at least is eating again. “Well then it’s time for you to have a vacation. This is probably when you’ll be feeling the best and able to do things, so we’ll take advantage while we can. We can take a few days and play tourist. We’ll eat clam chowder and go to Alcatraz, how does that sound?”

“You think wandering around with a pregnant guy won’t get a couple of looks?” Stiles finishes his broccoli and takes a couple more spears out of the bowl on the table. Peter tries to keep the carbs to one generous serving, but always has as much vegetables as the boy can eat.

“Maybe, but whose business is it? And we’ll put you in a baggy sweatshirt and I’m sure it won’t be noticed. And if anyone says anything or looks at you funny, I’ll rip their throats out,” he answers, smiling and flashing his eyes.

“Sure, between the two of us, we’ll just fit right in with the masses,” Stiles says with a grin. “I’ll get my doctor letter and let them know I need some leave time.”

 

_They’re on a boat in the ocean, Peter thinks, feeling the swells rocking the boat. He smiles at his wife as she sits on one of the blue cushioned seats that lines the side of the boat. Her eyes are closed and she has a gentle smile on her face, tilted towards the sun. Peter has the wheel of the boat, slightly surprised that he knows what to do, but everything seems fine, so he’ll keep doing what he’s doing, keeping the wheel steady while the boat gently rocks._

_He hears Stiles panting and looks over to see him lying back on a lounge chair, skin shiny with sweat, hand rubbing circles on his swollen belly._

_“Soon,” Tricia says, her eyes flashing as she smiles at Peter. “I’m glad you found him.”_

 

He jolts awake and tries to get his bearings, with the bed still moving like the boat did in his dream. Stiles is lying on his stomach, breath uneven, hips pushing into the mattress and smelling like rain and leaves and magic.

“Stiles,” he whispers, not certain if the boy’s awake or having his own dream. He runs a hand over his shoulders, trying not to growl at the small moan he hears and how the scent intensifies.

“Peter?” Stiles asks quietly. “I’m sorry, I just…” He’s panting, but he’s stopped moving, burying his face in his arm, turned away from Peter. Suddenly the sweet smell is fading, replaced by what Peter knows is embarrassment.

“Shh, don’t worry,” Peter says, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair, and brushing his hands lightly over his shoulders. “It’s the pregnancy hormones,” he says, drawing closer and he nudges his nose into the boy’s shoulder. “Let me…”

Stiles turns his head, and rubs his eyes, still embarrassed. “This isn’t supposed to be…it’s not what we agreed to,” he says quietly. But he doesn’t pull away and the warmer smells are coming back.

“I said I’ll take care of you,” Peter says quietly. He watches Stiles carefully, looking for any concern or any sign he’s not wanted as he takes his shoulder, rolling Stiles onto his back.

The boy is flushed and damp, and the sweet smell of his arousal starts to slowly come back. His hips buck, just once as Peter looks at him. “You shouldn’t,” he says, and it sounds like he’s saying something from a script.

Peter stops, moving away so they’re not touching. “Do you want me to stop or are you thinking this is somehow wrong?”

“You don’t owe me,” Stiles says, tilting his head to avoid Peter’s eyes. “I should get up or…I can just go back to sleep.”

“Of course I don’t owe you; I want to. I want to take care of you,” Peter says, and risks reaching out to touch Stiles, fingers stroking through the hair on his chest.

Stiles nods once, shutting his eyes with a sigh as Peter moves his hand down, pumping his cock until it’s back to fully erect. He slides down under the covers that haven’t been kicked off and buries his face in between Stiles’ thighs, breathing in deeply while the scent of him gets heavier, almost hypnotic. When he takes Stiles into his mouth, the boy gasps and Peter feels his long fingers grab his hair, almost but not quite painful.

Peter’s disappointed that the boy doesn’t last long, hips bucking as he drives his cock down Peter’s throat, coming before he can give the boy as much pleasure as he’d like. Although obviously, he didn’t disappoint, the scent of pleasure and release heavy in the room.

He rests his head on Stiles’ belly for a second, below the swell of his child and just above his cock getting his own breath back, knowing his eyes are flashing as he inhales the satisfied post-sex smell. It’s nothing, it’s normal. The boy has his cub and he’s satisfied him. It’s what he should do. Now he can sleep, and his child will sleep well, too.

“Do you need…” Stiles asks, and he sounds almost shy. It’s almost cute after everything they’ve been through so far.

“I’m fine,” Peter says, moving to his side of the bed. He pulls the boy back against his chest, spooning as they often do when they fall asleep. He keeps his hips slightly back until he feels his cock soften, but he takes full advantage of the boy’s warm, sleepy smell, rubbing his face into Stiles’ neck, leaving his scent on top of the contented smell that’s there.

 

Stiles first official day off includes a visit to the doctor’s office, so really his medical leave isn’t a complete lie. Maybe it’s not the knee replacement that his letter stated, but still, it’s a doctor appointment.

“How are you feeling, Stiles?” Aleshia asks, as she pulls over the ultrasound machine. “Fatigue getting any better?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Stiles answers, looking at Peter for confirmation. “My daily nap is now only about an hour or so, not three hours.”

Peter grins and raises an eyebrow. “And you’re not napping until the afternoon, which is better than the pre-lunch nap, followed by the post-lunch nap.”

“Well, that does sound like an improvement,” Aleshia says. “Okay, lay back on the table, lift up your shirt and undo your pants and let’s take a look at the baby.”

Stiles leans back until his head’s resting on the paper-covered pillow. He rucks up his shirt until it’s just under his arm pits and smiles at the doctor. “Okay, let’s check this baby out.”

Aleshia tucks a towel down the top of his pants, pushing them out of the way a little more. She says, “This is going to be a little chilly,” then squirts some gel on this belly and follows it with the rod that starts creating wavy lines on a monitor next to her. “Okay. Um hmm,” she mutters and moves the rod around a little more and then looks at Peter. “Okay, Peter, there’s your baby.” She touches a button to freeze the image and then points to the screen. “There’s the head, shoulders, we have two arms just here, next to the body,” she says, pointing to tiny little smudges. “The heartbeat is good,” she says, and glances up at Peter. “I’m guessing you’ve heard already, right?” She waits for his nod and continues, “Two legs, both look good. Good shape, good size, so far, so good.”

Peter looks at Stiles who is staring at the monitor, puzzled look on his face. “Do you see it?” he asks. “Sometimes it’s a little hard to see.”

“Maybe? I think I see the head, so that’s good. Babies should have heads,” Stiles says, squinting. “Where are the legs again?”

“Right here,” Aleshia says, pointing to the screen. She turns the monitor back on and continues to run the wand over Stiles’ baby bump, all the while keeping her eyes on the screen. After a minute she says, “Do you want to know the baby’s gender?”

“Can you tell?” Peter asks, looking at the monitor, trying to see if there’s something he can see, all of this bringing back memories from years ago and another doctor’s office. “Yes. Yes, I’d like to know.”

“You’re having a little girl,” she says, giving Peter a smile. “She did a nice roll just then and left no doubt.”

“Wow,” Stiles says, looking between the screen and Peter. “A daughter. You’ll have a daughter, Peter.”

“Yes,” he says quietly staring at the screen. Looking at the first picture of his daughter.

Aleshia wipes up the gel with the towels she’s tucked into Stiles’ pants. “You can get yourself dressed now. Peter, I’ll have a couple of prints of the ultrasound for you, if you give me a couple of minutes.”

He nods, still overwhelmed that the heartbeat he’s been listening to is his daughter. “Certainly, thank you, Aleshia.” He smiles at Stiles and says, “Do you need help getting dressed again?”

“No, I’m okay,” he says, straightening out his clothes and checking his hair in the mirror attached to the back of the office door. He smells pleased.

Aleshia looks up from the notes she’s typing and says, “Peter, I’d like to talk with Stiles for a couple of minutes, so we’ll meet you in the waiting room in just a little bit.”

Peter raises an eyebrow and looks towards Stiles before he says, “I thought that I’d be able to stay for pre-natal visits.”

“You absolutely can, but right now I’d like to talk with Stiles about Stiles, so we just need a few minutes,” she smiles and holds open the door, clearly waiting for him to leave.

“I’ll be right out, Peter,” Stiles says, smiling.

 

Peter sits in the waiting room, and considers they’re the only patients that he’s ever seen there. He assumes that Aleshia schedules her appointments with them with extra time so there’s no questions about the pregnant young man.

The room isn’t quite soundproof, and he doesn’t really try to listen to Stiles’ conversation, but he doesn’t not try. If she’s going to see werewolves she should consider this.

“How are you doing, Stiles? Are things going okay?” he hears Aleshia ask.

“Yeah, things are fine. I mean, it’s a little weird now that I’m home all the time. You know, Peter’s home. At the house.”

“You know, Stiles, I understand that it’s hard. We talked about how Peter’s wolf would feel about the person carrying his baby. Especially given what happened to his family before. And how strongly attached you could feel carrying a wolf’s child.”

Peter leans against the wall by the office, not even trying to pretend he’s not listening. He knows some wolves think of their human self and their wolf self almost as two different beings; he feels fully integrated with his wolf, there’s not a difference between the two. It’s that Stiles is carrying his child – his daughter. He’d do anything to protect the two of them.

“I know, Aleshia, I know, we talked about it before. And Peter’s not my first werewolf, you know.”

“So you’re okay?” There’s a pause and Aleshia says, “Stiles?”

He tries to listen and can’t hear anything for a long minute until he finally hears Stiles give a shaky breath and then he says, “Peter is not my mate. And this is not our baby.”

Peter moves across the room and falls in a chair next to the air conditioning vent where he can’t hear any more of the conversation. He hadn’t realized Stiles was upset and there never seemed to be any question about the baby being his baby. When did this happen?

His thoughts are interrupted when the glass window slides open and Kyle smiles at him. “Mr. Hale, Dr. Graham said to give you these,” he says and slides an envelope across the counter. Peter pulls out pictures from the ultrasound and sets them on the counter. Kyle coos when he looks at them, pointing at one picture, saying “Oh, look at your little girl.”

Stiles comes out of the office followed by Aleshia and Peter stops and turns to look at them. Stiles has a small smile, but his eyes look glassy as he turns away, scratching his head.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks, glaring at Aleshia. Stiles shouldn’t be upset. It’s not good for him or the baby.

“I’m fine,” Stiles says, nodding, looking anything but.

Peter sniffs the air, not trying to be subtle about it, and raises an eyebrow, still glaring at Aleshia. “You’re sure?”

“There’s a lot of hormones just now,” Aleshia says to Peter, while she rubs circles on Stiles’ back. It annoys him, but he allows it. “Mood swings happen, especially with Stiles’ magic adjusting as well as his hormones.”

“When’s my next appointment?” Stiles asks her, and turns towards Kyle.

“Let’s go with a month, but of course, call me if you have any concerns. Anything at all,” she says. “Nice to see you both.” She smiles and leaves Peter to make the follow-up appointment, now that his is the only schedule to work around.

 

When they get outside, Stiles’ scent is better, not happy, but calmer. “You know what I’d like? A barbequed pork bun.”

“Hmm, baked or steamed?” Peter asks.

Stiles raises an eyebrow and gives Peter a look as though he’d suggested they eat a basket of kittens. “Baked, of course. Only baked.”

“Okay so we could go downtown to Yank Sing, they have the best baked pork buns. Or we could go to Good Luck on Clement. They have the best dim sum overall.”

“Clement then,” Stiles says and settles into the car, buckling his seat belt around his small tummy.

“I thought you wanted pork buns,” Peter answers, starting the car and pulling into traffic.

“It’s not for me,” Stiles says, smiling broadly.  “The baby wants dim sum. Your daughter has a craving for dim sum.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Peter talk about boundaries. Carla visits.

“How’s it going?” Scott asks, settling into their biweekly skype chat.

“Good, dude, how are you?” Stiles answers back, arranging the pillows behind him so he’s propped up enough, but not too much. “Getting hot where you are, huh?”

“Yeah, you know it. So how is it there? Weather okay, is Peter still treating you good? You feeling okay?”

Stiles scratches his head and smiles. “Yeah, it’s real nice here, still cool. And Peter’s treating me well still. But it’s weird since I’m not working now, you know?”

“Nuh uh, what’s weird? Well the whole thing is weird, of course,” Scott says, grinning. “My best bro’s pregnant. But like what part in particular is weird?”

“Well, I’m home and Peter’s home a lot, too. He works in the evening and during the day, we’ve been going out.” Stiles shrugs and straightens out his t-shirt so Scott can see the shirt with the logo from the Buena Vista. “We went to Fisherman’s Wharf and played tourist. We’ve been doing that a lot, actually. We’ve been walking through Chinatown and did North Beach. I think it’s so I get exercise and he wants to be sure I’m getting out of the house while I still can.”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to go out?” Scott asks, looking worried. “He’s not keeping you captive or anything?”

“No, dude, I just told you we’ve been going out. I mean we can go out now while I’m not looking hugely fat.” He sets the laptop on the bed, pulls up his shirt and rubs his stomach. “Look at my belly!” he crows. “There’s a baby in there!”

“Yeah there is!” Scott says, leaning forwards toward the screen. “Dude, you’re having a baby! So you’re how far along? Remind me.”

Stiles pulls his shirt back down, keeping a hand on his stomach. “Man, I tell you every time I talk with you! Twenty-two weeks. Five and a half months for your brain.”

“Man. Peter must be so excited seeing you get big. That’s probably why he’s around all the time; it’s a wolf thing, you know.”

“I know, Scott, I did a little research, too, before I agreed to do this. Anyway, this week we’re going to do the night tour of Alcatraz, which should be pretty cool.”

Scott jumps up and points at the screen. “Man! We were gonna do that, I can’t believe you’re doing that without me!”

“Scotty, I’ve told you a hundred times to come down so we can play tourist and you’re always too busy,” Stiles cajoles. “Anyway, I’d be willing to do it again when you do come down – or you could just come with us.”

“Yeah, I doubt Peter’d like that, remember we were never buddies,” Scotts says, grinning. “And like I said, wolf instincts – he probably wouldn’t want you around another wolf. So you’re still doing good keeping your boundaries, right?”

Stiles glances away, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah…. Sort of. I think it’s hormones or something, but he’s been really sweet and stuff and…”

“Stiles!” Scott shouts, leaning towards the screen. “You know that’s not good, that’s what you’re supposed to avoid. Keep your distance!”

Stiles sits back and rubs his a hand against his eye, trying to keep back a sudden flood of tears. “Don’t yell, I know, I know. Don’t you think I tell myself this, Scott.”

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Scott says, looking as distressed as Stiles feels. “It’s just I’m worried about you. And now I made you cry. I’m a terrible friend.”

“It’s not you,” Stiles sniffs. “It’s just I’m up and down and I cry and then I’m horny and then I wanna eat a cow. It’s so ugly. I mean it’s beautiful and I’m having a baby, but it’s also really confusing.”

“Remember it’s temporary, Stiles. It’ll be over soon and then you can get back to your life.”

Stiles sighs and shrugs. “Yeah, I know. It’ll all be okay. Just three months and a bit left.”

 

The trip to Alcatraz starts off well. First dinner at a seafood restaurant on Pier 39 where Stiles eats his weight in shrimp. “It’s on the approved list,” Stiles tells Peter, who just hums and orders another plate of fried clam strips.

After dinner, they get on the boat that goes to the island. It’s chilly and Stiles is bundled up for the 20 minute ride in a sweat jacket, beanie and scarf, sipping a hot chocolate. Peter’s made sure they have a good spot at the back of the boat to watch the city as they pull away from the dock. He doesn’t need to flash his eyes or fangs at anyone, he just looks at them coldly and people seem to recognize a predator and understand they should back away.

They have their headsets for the self-tour, keeping a little bit back from the rest of the group. Stiles has never been, but Peter’s taken the tour before and read about the history of the former prison, so he adds in comments as they walk through the cold hallways, looking in the tiny cells and the few that were fixed for tour groups to visit.

After about twenty minutes of their leisurely tour, Peter notices Stiles heart beat rising. He glances over and sees he’s looking down, slowly breathing out of mouth like he does when he’s trying to keep calm.  “Are you okay? Do you need to find a place to sit down?”

“I um… I’m sorry, Peter, I think I might need to take a break,” Stiles says softly, turning so he can rest his head on Peter’s shoulder.

“Absolutely,” Peter tells him and he wraps his arms around the boy, quickly escorting him to the nearest exit.

When they’re outside in the fresh air, he finds a step they can sit on and asks, “Is this better? Do you need some water?”

Stiles nods, and Peter smells his embarrassment. “I’m okay, sorry. I just suddenly… kind of had an Eichen House flashback? I know I was only there for a minute, and I wasn’t in a cell like those of course, but the locked in stuff and mess hall thing and…”

“It’s okay,” Peter assures him, rubbing Stiles’ arm gently. “I felt that way, too, the first time I was here.”

“Were you at Eichen House?” Stiles asks.

It’s not something Peter particularly wants to discuss, but the boy’s scent starts to turn calmer and Peter gets a whiff of the curiosity he’s familiar with. “After the fire, to start to heal, I guess. You can’t really take a werewolf to Beacon Hills General without raising suspicion. So I was there a while and no, I don’t have fond memories of the place.”

“No, I wouldn’t think so. I doubt anyone would.”

They sit for another minute, Peter waiting until Stiles’ color is back to normal and his heart beat is steady before he stands. “There’s still almost an hour before the boat goes back. Would you like to walk around outside here? It’s really a beautiful island and I’ll make sure you don’t stumble in the dark.”

“Yeah, that would be good, thanks. Thanks to you guys, I’m comfortable walking around at night.” Stiles moves closer to Peter, taking his elbow as Peter leads them towards the side of the building.

“Be careful, and stay on the paths,” a docent calls after them.

“We’ll be fine, thank you,” Peter calls back, not bothering to turn around, just waving a hand over his shoulder. “I have very good night vision; I eat a lot of carrots.”

“You’re a dick,” Stiles says, hip checking the wolf who leads him off to look at plants in the dark.

 

  
“So, I’m thinking you don’t want to do this again,” Peter says, when they’re back to sitting on the boat for the short ride back to the city.

“I like the boat ride and I liked looking around outside. I think sometime I’d like to bring a picnic and take the boat over and just sit around outside. It’s a nice place with a great view,” Stiles answers, sipping on another hot chocolate.

“It is, that was part of the punishment, of course. And you’re right, it would be a nice place to visit for the outside.” Peter looks at the island growing smaller behind them. “Perhaps when she’s old enough, I’ll take my daughter here and show her the plants and birds. There’s over a hundred types of birds on the island.”

“Huh, I did not know that.” Stiles sips and wiggles a bit on his seat, a sign that he’s worried about something.

Over the past few months, Peter’s learned to read Stiles’ signals and his body language. He doesn’t want to rely on the boy’s scent, which is affected by the magic and hormones. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm,” he says, rubbing his lips and looking into his empty cup. “Yeah. Just…I’m sorry if things have been weird lately. If I’m making things weird. I hope not too weird and I’m not making you uncomfortable in your own house.”

“It’s fine, Stiles,” Peter says automatically. He thinks for a minute about what he wants to say, what he knows from a lifetime of werewolf history. “You’re magic. You have strong magic and it’s attracted to magic or supernatural creatures like me. And you’re carrying my child and my instincts are to protect my cub – to protect both of you.” He looks at the mage and shrugs. “It’s to be expected and it certainly doesn’t bother me or anger me. Are you okay with it? Is there something I can do to make you feel more comfortable?”

“No, I mean, I’m good. I just feel like…maybe I’m making you do things you don’t want to.”

Peter smiles and raises an eyebrow. “Have you known me to do things I don’t want to? That doesn’t sound like me.”

Stiles chuckles and watches as the ferry starts to pull into the dock. “No, I guess it doesn’t. But you’ll let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable or you know, pushing for things or whatever. Overstepping.” He stands and looks towards the line forming to get off the boat. “Maybe the sex stuff,” he whispers, not meeting Peter’s eyes.

“Of course,” Peter says, as they slowly start making their way into the line. “But there’s nothing upsetting me now, not even the limited sex. And of course, you’ll do likewise, please.”

“Yeah, sure. And I won’t be underfoot much longer; we’re more than half-way there.”

Peter checks his scent and he’s calmer and back to the self-assured smell Peter’s used to. “True. And when this is done, we’ll go back to the way we were.”

Stiles doesn’t turn around as they get off the boat and start walking again. “Virtually strangers,” he says, nodding.

 

“Stiles, if you want to go tonight, you need to get moving,” Peter calls out as he gathers his coat and car keys. It’s another chilly night and they’re going to a haunted history walking tour through the Haight.

“Hold on, we have a few minutes yet,” the boys answers as he comes out of the bedroom. “I want to grab a couple of the granola bars you made and a bottle of water. Do you want one?”

“No, but thanks.” Peter checks and makes sure he’s wearing a couple of layers of clothes and his new sneakers. Stiles feet have gotten bigger while pregnant and even though they fought about it, he finally relented and let Peter buy him new shoes.

When the doorbell rings, they look at each other and Stiles raises an eyebrow. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

“I’ve ordered a couple of things for the baby’s room, might be that,” Peter says and moves towards the door.

“Hey, Peter.” Carla smiles and holds out a small box. “This came for you yesterday and since you weren’t in today either, I thought I’d drop it off.”

He gives her a kiss on the cheek as he takes the box and lets her in. “Thanks. I forgot this was coming.”

“What is it?” she asks and shrugs. “Yeah, I’m nosey.”

“It’s just a book I ordered for a friend,” Peter answers and puts the package on a table by the sofa. “You’ll be glad that the baby things I’ve ordered will come here.”

Carla goes into the kitchen and gets a bottle of water from the fridge. “Makes sense, you’re doing a lot of working at home.”

Peter raises an eyebrow, and sits at the dining room table, using his foot to push out a chair for Carla. “Not a problem, I’m sure. Things are getting done.”

“Of course it’s not a work problem, idiot, I just miss you. Your sarcastic little face and your snarky little comments make my day.”

One of his favorite things about Carla is that her scent always matches her words. She never hides. “Oh,” Peter answers, with a smirk. “Would you like me to text you with insults for our coworkers and clients every few hours? It’s not like they’ve stopped annoying me.”

She nods and sips her water. “Actually, yes. And dinners, we need to go to dinner during the week.” She shrugs again and says, “Sorry, but you’ve cut me off cold turkey. I know it’s for a good cause and you’re spending time with your baby-mama, but I claimed you first.”

Stiles picks that time to wander into the living room, with his cold weather gear over his arm. “Okay, now I’m boiling, I’m going to sit outside for a couple of minutes until we’re ready to go and….” He stops and quickly tries to cover his stomach with the sweaters he’s holding.

“Hi,” Carla says, rising to meet him. “I’m Carla and you are…”

Peter sees Stiles flush and can hear him swallow a couple of times. “Stiles, this is my friend, Carla. Carla, this is Stiles. Carla came by to drop off that book we talked about for you and to lecture me about what a crappy friend I am.”

“Oh, okay.” Stiles looks towards Peter who seems perfectly content that they meet. He nods and reaches out to shake her hand. “Rest assured that whatever he’s done to you, he’s done much worse to others.”

“Not sure that’s reassuring, although it’s accurate,” Peter answers. Stiles scent is calmer and he’s slightly less twitchy. It was probably going to happen and now Peter can relax a little more as well. Hopefully.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you and to have a name, Stiles.”

Peter looks between them, getting slightly nervous at Carla’s grin. “I’m going to be a bad friend again and kick you out. We’re on our way out. I’d invite you along, but it’s a walking tour and I know you hate that sort of thing.”

“That’s why god made cars. But it’s nice that Peter’s found someone to share his weird hobbies with.” She smiles again and grabs her purse heading towards the door, calling over her shoulder, “Nice to meet you, Stiles, see you soon!”

Carla pulls Peter onto the front porch, shutting the door behind them. “Okay, I get it now and he’s adorable, so I can see why you’re spending extra time with him.”

“I’m spending time with him because he’s carrying my daughter and I want to make sure they’re both healthy.” Peter gives her what he hopes is a stern look. “And adorable has nothing to do with anything. It’s a contract. Uterus, money, et cetera.”

She raises an eyebrow and says, “Uh huh, keep telling yourself that. You’ve been so damn happy that you’re now the subject of office gossip. And at some point, you’re going to have to tell people you’re having a baby – you don’t need to give anyone details, but I’m sure you’re going to want some paternity leave and you’ll need to explain there’s a baby to do that.”

“Yes, fine, I’ll do all that, you’re right.” He sighs loudly, listening to Stiles pacing around just inside the door. “We really do need to go. Thanks for coming over, Carla and I’ll call you for dinner, I promise. I think I need a night off.”

“Okay, good.” She cups a hand around his chin and leans in for a quick peck on his cheek. “Have fun and be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I’m not expecting to see any ghosts on the ghost tour,” Peter answers with a smirk.

She shakes her head and walks down the driveway, saying, “You’re an idiot and you know that’s not what I mean.”

Peter shrugs and goes back in the house so they can go. And he knows exactly what Carla means.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting ready for the baby, good times and some stress.

At six and a half months pregnant, Stiles starts to balk at going outside in crowds. Sometimes he’s still willing, if Peter offers a good enough movie or foods that don’t travel well for carryout. But often he shies away from what he thinks are the looks that he gets. Peter isn’t sure that he _is_ getting looks, and really he could not care less if they are, but Stiles is as stubborn as Peter remembers.

On a good evening, Peter will convince him to go to dinner and they walk for a few blocks afterwards, just to get a little exercise. Stiles in a good mood is willing to follow a group of teenagers who mumble a slur at them, responding, “Yeah, that’s right, I am a little cocksucker. Can’t get enough of it, and you can trust me when I say I am good at it. I can …”

Peter sees the group has gone from showing off for each other, to surprise and now they’re getting angry. While he could easily take the three of them, it’s probably not a smart thing to do in the middle of a crowded neighborhood. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, sometimes he gets carried away,” Peter says to the group, as he loops an arm around Stiles’ shoulder. “Come along, dear, you’re being a very naughty boy. Behave yourself.”

“Or what, Daddy? You’ll spank me?” Stiles asks, eyebrow raised in a challenge. He’s grinning at Peter and smells divine. The teens who started this do not seem as amused and Peter hustles Stiles’ into a taxi before they can respond.

On another day, he’s able to talk Stiles into going out for a movie and as they’re eating ice cream afterwards a woman passes them and says to her companion, “That boy doesn’t look like he needs any more to eat!”

Stiles dumps the rest of his treat into the next garbage can and crosses his arms over his belly. He’s quiet the rest of the way home and Peter doesn’t say anything, he just pats Stiles’ knee and drives while the boy stares silently out the window, stinking of embarrassment. At home, he curls up under a blanket on the patio and Peter brings him tea and leaves him alone. He gives Stiles privacy later when he hears him on the phone with his father.

 

At the end of a long day, Peter wants nothing more than to relax and shut off his brain. Too many meetings this week, arguing the fine points of a contract that will bring an installation to the MOMA that he cares nothing about.

Stiles barely wakes as Peter pulls him against his chest, resting his hand on the swell of the younger man’s belly. He lets the strong heartbeat of his daughter calm him as he starts to doze.

“Peter?” Stiles asks quietly, rolling onto his back. “Do you think…what will you tell your daughter about me? If anything?”

“I’m sure I’ll tell her about you. I expect that I’ll tell her that we’re friends and you’re magic and agreed to give me a child because you knew how much it means to me.”

“Well, that’s a nice version, probably better than the truth,” Stiles snorts. “No need to get involved with contract language.”

Peter shrugs and rubs Stiles’ stomach, feeling his daughter roll over, thinking it’s no wonder Stiles can’t sleep. “Close enough. Besides, I think we’ve made some adjustments to the contract ourselves.”

“True.”

Peter’s almost back asleep when he asks, “Would you object to meeting her sometime? I’m guessing she might want to meet the person who gave birth to her.”

“You think so? You’re okay with it?” Stiles whispers and Peter notes his heart beat jump.

Peter rubs his nose against Stiles’ temple and says, “Think about it. If your father told you that you didn’t have a mother, but were created by a man who did magic, wouldn’t you want to meet him?”

“I suppose so,” Stiles chuckles. “I’d probably have a million questions.”

Peter sighs and says, “And she’ll have your genes, so there you go. And thank you.”

Stiles turns his head and they’re almost nose to nose. “It won’t be right away though, right? Not until she’s like eight or so?”

“Probably something like that. I’ll let you know when we talk about it and you can tell me if you’re ready to meet her.”

“Ugh,” Stiles mutters, rolling back over and nesting back against Peter’s chest. “I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready.”

“Hmm, I have faith in you,” Peter whispers, listening as the two heartbeats slow.

 

“Come on, Stiles, time to get up.” Peter puts a glass of juice along with a bowl of fruit and yogurt on Stiles’ bedside table.

“Time ‘zit?” he asks, face still buried in the pillow.

“Almost nine,” Peter tells him, pulling his own clothes out of a dresser drawer. “You have about an hour to get ready, I’m thinking we can probably see an early movie, have lunch and then another movie later on. That should give the painters enough time to get everything done.”

“Painters?” Stiles sits up and yawns hugely, rubbing his eyes. “What painters?”

“For the baby’s room, remember? We talked about this last week.”

“Oh yeah.” He sits up and reaches for the cup of yogurt, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth. “What time are they here?” he asks around the mouth full of fruit.

“They’ll be right around ten,” Peter answers, pulling clothes out for Stiles as well because it’s just easier.

“Do I have to go? Can’t I just stay in my room here?”

Peter sets the clothes out on the bottom of the bed and says, “No. Even though it’s a non-toxic paint, there’s still a smell and we should be out of the house. You and the baby don’t need to be around the chemicals and the workers and all the fuss today.”

“Hmm, make it sound like it’s good for me, thanks, Peter.” Stiles says, as he finishes his breakfast and slowly gets out of bed. “So do I get popcorn since you’re dragging me out of the house?”

Peter does a quick calculation in his head on what he thinks he’ll make for dinner. Lunch is up in the air, he can choose a restaurant with healthy options, but he can’t force Stiles to eat the things he’d prefer he eats. “You can have a small popcorn with butter or a large without. Up to you,” he says finally. Stiles is only supposed to have about 300 calories more than he’d eat if he weren’t pregnant, but Peter has a hard time denying him movie theatre treats.

“You’re really strict,” Stiles says, as he dresses. “Were you like this with Tricia?”

Stiles head is still in his shirt, so he doesn’t see Peter’s surprised face at the question. “No, not really,” he answers, keeping his voice casual. “But she was very conscientious herself; I didn’t need to babysit her diet quite so much.”

“Hmm,” Stiles says, picking up his tablet and looking for movies. “So I get to pick both movies, right?”

Peter takes his piles of clothes and shakes his head as he leaves the room. “Whatever you want, as long as you’re ready to leave when the painters get here.”

 

Peters enters the apartment first, protective instincts kicking in, even though he knows there’s nothing dangerous. The painters are gone, keys left on the table, per their arrangements.

“I’m stuffed,” Stiles declares, grabbing the remote and throwing himself on the sofa. Peter smiles when he sees how his hand automatically curls around his stomach, protecting the cub. “And I’m tired. I feel like I could sleep for ten hours. Why is sitting in a dark theatre so tiring?”

“You can take a nap before dinner, if you want.” Peter stops in the kitchen, setting down the bag from the grocery store and pulling a bottle of flavored water out of the fridge for Stiles. “I’m just going to check on the baby’s room, I’ll be right back.”

The door to the room is closed, and the windows inside open to let in the ocean air, just as he requested. The walls are painted a light, buttery yellow and the trim is shiny and white.

“It’s pretty,” Stiles says from behind him, resting his chin on Peter’s shoulder. “It’ll be a sweet room for a little girl.”

Peter nods and rubs his head against Stiles’ without even thinking about it. “I think so. Were you expecting something else? Blood red, perhaps?”

Stiles snorts and walks into the room, looking around and Peter realizes he hasn’t been in this room before. “No, but perhaps more outdoorsy?  Green like the woods or something?”

“No, I think this will be good, it’s both cheery and calming. And actually, too woodsy can be confusing,” Peter says, and scrapes a bit of paint off a window with a human nail. “Derek’s little brother, Edward, when he was little, his bedroom was painted with a beautiful mural. Beautiful green grass and you could see different plants growing on the ground. Trees with birds in them and little insects flitting around on a green and blue background. The sky was dusky and the moon was just a crescent.” Peter smiles, thinking back on his lost family and shakes his head. “Poor thing got so confused, during full moons he kept trying to run into the forest. He was only…five? six?”

Stiles covers his mouth, hiding his own smile. “I shouldn’t laugh, but…”

“No, it was funny, at least the first couple of times,” Peter answers, shrugging. “He wasn’t…he was a very instinctual child, he would have been a wonderful wolf. After his third full moon and he still had trouble with the painting, Talia had the room repainted a solid blue. It was a nice, boring color. Edward did well with it after that.”

“This is nice, I think she’ll like it,” Stiles says, giving Peter a quick, one-armed hug. “Do you have furniture planned?”

Peter nods as Stiles pulls away, appreciating the change in topic. “It’s walnut; I think it’ll look nice. Keep the room from looking too childlike. And if Alexis wants to change the paint color when she’s older, the dressers can probably stay, if she still likes them. And hasn’t destroyed them.”

“Alexis? Her name will be Alexis?” Stiles’ scent is happy and warm.

“Yes, didn’t I tell you?” Peter smiles and sinks gracefully to the floor, leaning against a wall next to the window with a view of the water. “Alexis Renée. Alexis was my favorite aunt, my father’s sister. I adored her.”

“And Renée?” Stiles asks, carefully lowering himself to the floor next to Peter. It’s a bit of a production and Peter smiles, knowing he’ll have to help Stiles get back up.

“Renée just sounds good. Alexis Renée Hale.” Peter nods, more to himself than for Stiles. “It has a nice flow.”

“It does.” Stiles relaxes against the wall and shuts his eyes. “It’s a beautiful name and she’ll be a beautiful girl.” He rubs his stomach and says, “Lucky, lucky girl.”

 

Peter’s in his office with the door pushed mostly shut so he can work. The quiet buzz from the television in the living room is just loud enough to provide a bit of background noise while he works.

After a couple of hours, Peter’s ready to shut down for the night. Tomorrow he’ll go into the office and swap these contracts for some other work, meet with his boss and probably attend a department meeting. Boring stuff, but this is how corporate America works, at least in Peter’s experience.

Back in the living room, he sees the TV is still on, but Stiles is nowhere to be found.  Peter hears rustling in the kitchen and goes to see if Stiles is there, looking for a late night snack.

He keeps himself from shouting, not wanting to startle Stiles, who is standing on a chair, looking through the upper cabinet shelf where they keep the chips. As soon as Peter’s sure he’s steady, he moves forward and wraps his arms around Stile’s thighs, lifting him from the chair and seating him on a nearby kitchen counter.

“Whoa, you startled me!” Stiles exclaims, holding a bag of taco chips to his chest. “You done working?”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Peter hisses, and he can feel his eyes flashing blue.

“Getting chips?” Stiles says, shoving a handful into his mouth, while yawning at the same time. “I just wanted a little something before bed.”

“Standing on a chair? Dammit, Stiles, you could have fallen and hurt yourself or hurt the baby!” Peter breathes deeply, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tries to calm himself.

Stiles slides off the counter and shrugs a shoulder. “Wow, no need to overreact, Peter. It’s a steady chair, and not too high. And I do know how to take care of myself.” He tries to step around Peter, saying, “And besides, if you weren’t such a control freak, putting the snacks on high shelves, I wouldn’t’ve had to use a chair.”

Peter takes Stiles’ arm as he passes, being careful not to use his full strength. He just wants the boy to stay put and not run away from the discussion. “If you weren’t eating like you were gestating an elephant, I wouldn’t have to put snacks away.”

“You know, just because I’m having your baby, doesn’t make you my keeper or my father,” Stiles answers, pulling his arm away. “And seriously, I am going to be so glad when this is done and I can get back to my life.”

“I will, too. So please take care not to hurt my child before she’s born,” Peter snips back at Stiles’ retreating form. 

“ _So glad_ when this is done,” Stiles calls over his shoulder.

“Tell you what,” Peter says, following him down the hallway as Stiles storms to what Peter thinks of as their bedroom. “Werewolf children are healthy and ready to be born at eight months. So it’s just a couple more weeks and we can be out of each other’s hair. Call Aleshia tomorrow and tell her that at 32 weeks, we’ll have the baby. That way, you only have about two more weeks until you can go back to your real life.”

Stiles spins and stares, eyes gone wide. Peter smells his concern, but more than that, he’s angry. “Fine. Fine, I’ll call Aleshia and if she says the baby’s big enough at eight months, she’ll deliver it then. And then I’ll get out of your hair.”

He slams the door to the bedroom and for the first time in months, Peter goes to bed in his guest room, alone.  

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make up.

He’s too keyed up to sleep, so around two, he gets up to look through the journals from his family and other packs, reading more about pregnancy and childbirth. He knows he was born at just past eight months and remembers Talia complaining about Derek being stubborn and refusing to be born until he was at a full nine months. Derek was a momma’s boy before he was even born. So with one human parent, it might be better for Peter’s baby to be full term, but it’s not a necessity.

There’s not a text book on supernatural pregnancies, and Peter briefly thinks that Stiles might be the one to write “What to Expect When You’re Expecting a Werewolf.” If it’s something he wants to do later; if he’s willing to think about it at all.

Sometime later, he jolts awake with a hand on his shoulder, his claws digging into the desk.

Stiles backs away and says, “Peter, your alarm went off.” He rubs his eyes and stifles a yawn. “Do you want me to put on coffee?”

“No, I’ve got it, thank you.” Peter turns and straightens the papers on his desk, stacking up the books to put away later, yawning as he says, “You should go back to bed. If you’d like.” He hates this, they’re both stiff and formal and Stiles smells exhausted and worried and sad.

“I might,” he says and fidgets for a minute, watching Peter at his desk. “We should talk. Right?”

Peter nods, saying, “Yes, we should. But I’m sorry, I have to go into work today, it’s unavoidable. I’ll be home around four though.”

“Sure,” Stiles says and shrugs. He rubs his belly and when he sees Peter notice, he stops, dropping his hands to his sides, as though it’s not allowed. “Okay. I think I’ll just stay in bed today, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Peter answers. Stiles moves out of his way when Peter goes to leave the room, making sure they don’t touch, which is so different than the casual contact they’re both used to. Peter dresses and gets out of the house as quickly as possible. It’s one of the days he wishes caffeine was an option for werewolves.

 

“You’re in a pissy mood,” Carla says, putting a cup of coffee in front of him. She sinks into one of his office chairs with her own cup, looking at him over the rim. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says sharply, trying to decide if he wants to talk. “Nothing much. Just an argument with Stiles.” Peter sighs and sips his coffee.

“Bad one?” she asks, looking into her cup. She’s always been good at giving him room.

He shrugs and says, “Kind of, I suppose.” Glancing up, he sees Carla sitting patiently and things spill out, the way they tend to when they’re together. “He was being stupid, I suppose, and I probably over-reacted and we were both…I thought he was putting himself and the baby in danger and of course, I chose to jump down his throat.”

“That’s been known to happen,” Carla answers, with a small smile. “How’d you leave it? Things okay?”

“No, not really. We both stormed off to separate rooms last night and I went to work this morning,” Peter says, rubbing his forehead and shrugging again.

“So, you’ll go home tonight and talk it out. And apologize. Right?”

“Yes, I should. I mean, he _was_ wrong, but I probably didn’t need to be so harsh.”

“Gee, that would be new,” she says and grins. “Come on, you’ll be fine. Apologize to him and get back to being all cute and sweet. I know you know how to apologize.”

Peter raises an eyebrow and says, “Cute and sweet? Who are you describing?”

“You, you big softie. You’ve been smiling more and you’re even relaxed sometimes. He’s good for you, you know.”

He snorts and finishes his coffee before he says, “I’m excited about the baby, that’s all. Generally, Stiles isn’t too difficult to live with, but once the baby’s here, we’ll basically go our separate ways. That’s what we agreed to. In writing.”

“Okay, fine, stick with that story,” Carla says, getting up from the chair and handing Peter her cup to throw out. “Whatever you say. Just go home tonight and be your charming self and make up with him.”  She stops herself before she leaves and say, “Oh yeah, so you’re registered for baby stuff, right?”

“No. No, I’m not. I told you I didn’t want anything like a baby shower. And I don’t need to beg for handouts; I’m quite capable of buying things for my daughter, so I don’t want to register anywhere.” He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, trying to look stern.

Carla sits down on the edge of his desk and says, “It’s not begging, Peter. People like to buy gifts when people they like have major life events, for example having a baby. That’s how humans work.”

Peter studies her for a moment and sneers, “How dare you? People _like_ me? Take that back.”

Carla chuckles and shakes her head. “Well maybe they don’t _like_ you, but people like to buy baby gifts and things for girls are always fun to buy. I’ve already bought three…no, four dresses for her.”

“Carla…”

“And some cute little rompers, too. It’s fun, Peter, and I’m going to spoil the hell out of that girl. So if anyone asks, I’ll tell them Nordstrom.” She gets up again and heads for the door, saying over her shoulder. “Go home and make up with your baby momma…or whatever. Just kiss and make up.”

 

Part of him knows it’s overkill, but he stops off at a florist on the way home and buys a small lavender plant. Stiles has been tending the plants on both patios and everything’s flourished. Peter’s not sure if there’s any magic involved, and it doesn’t really matter to him; it’s something Stiles enjoys, so it makes Peter happy to let him do it.

When Peter comes in, Stiles is leaning against the doorway of the living room, looking like he might run back into a bedroom any second. “Hey, you’re home early. Well, I guess you said you’d try to get home early, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. Basically, Carla sent me home. I got you this, I know we have some lavender already…”

Stiles takes the plant and buries his face in the fragrant stalks, shutting his eyes as he inhales. His scent turns sweet and happy, much easier on Peter’s nose and he realizes how much he missed it from just one morning. “So, I should apologize, I was kind of stupid and…”

“I need to apologize, too; I jumped at you and…” Peter runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Stiles. Of course I want you to go to full term with Alexis.”

Stiles tilts his head studying Peter. “You’re apologizing? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize before.”

“Possibly I’ve never been wrong before,” he says, and smiles gently, taking one of Stiles’ hands. “But this time, I am sorry, I was upset and shouldn’t have snarled at you. And shouldn’t have threatened you and said that you should have the baby early.”

“It’s okay, I was being childish. I called Scott expecting he’d back me up and tell me how you were wrong. Instead, he yelled at me for ten minutes,” Stiles says and there’s a tentativeness to him, as he steps forward.

“That is unexpected,” Peter says and tries not to smile. “I would have thought he’d drive down here and threaten to beat me to pulp or something.”

“No, he’s totally on your side. Hell, at this point _I’m_ on your side.”

Peter steps forward and wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulder. If Stiles resists at all, he plans to move away; he wouldn’t force so much as a hug on the boy, but he moves into Peter’s arms, resting his forehead against Peter’s with a quiet sigh, his breath warm and pepperminty on Peter’s face.

“What do you think of a pre-dinner nap? Do you mind?” Stiles whispers.

“Sure,” Peter says, and rests a hand on Stiles’ lower back. He pulls out a little bit of pain, more of a constant ache than anything too sharp.

“Hmm,” Stiles mutters and melts into Peter, resting his head on Peter’s shoulder. “You know you’re not supposed to do that, right? The only way I’ll know if something’s wrong is if I feel all the aches and stuff.”

Peter grins and rubs his face into Stiles’ hair, whispering, “Sorry, I’ll stop in just a minute.” He shakes out his hand, and reluctantly moves away. “Go ahead and take a nap, I’ll wake you in a couple of hours.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, glancing down, but not before Peter can see his disappointed frown. “I kind of meant, could _we_ take a nap? You know, together.” He shrugs and glances away, saying, “’Cause I think we both sleep better when we’re together? Me and Alexis, I mean. She wouldn’t settle today, she’s been kicking the heck out of me; I think she could feel me being anxious or something.” He smiles and puts his hand on top of his belly, shrugging as he says, “If you don’t mind. I mean you can read or something, if we can just curl up next to you and…”

“Yes,” Peter says, nodding vigorously. “Yes, I could use some extra sleep myself. Apparently, I don’t sleep well without both of you, either.”

 

They’re tucked into Peter’s bed, late in the winter afternoon, with the sky already darkening. Peter’s in his sleep pants, something that he’s worn since Stiles came into his bed. Stiles sleeps in loose boxers and one of Peter’s largest t-shirts, which still leaves a strip of belly between the two.

Stiles backs into Peter, yawning as Peter wraps his arms around him, with his hand rubbing slow, soft circles on his belly. “Alexis likes that,” Stiles yawns, and rests his hand on top of Peter’s. “I wonder if she’ll like having you rub her tummy after she’s born.”

“Probably. Babies find it soothing. Can you sleep?” Peter asks, yawning and ready to drift off; he didn’t sleep well the previous night and the dim room and Stiles’ warmth hits him like a drug.

“Um hmm. Oh, I’m going to call my dad later and tell him that I’m not coming home for Thanksgiving. Is that okay? If I stay here?” Stiles rolls over to his back, staying in Peter’s arms.

“Of course you can stay here,” Peter tells him, dropping a kiss to Stiles’ forehead. “This is your home, at least for now. And actually, I’m glad you’re not going back to Beacon Hills. It’s a long drive and I’d worry about you doing it alone.”

“Yeah, that’s what my dad said, too. And this way he can plan to work Thanksgiving and take off around Christmas, when I’ll be back.” Stiles eyes droop again and he pulls up his knees, turning his legs to rest them on Peter, which is easier on his back. “You don’t mind, I’m not going to ruin your plans?”

“No, not at all. I’ll get a turkey and we’ll do a quiet Thanksgiving here. You’ll have to tell me what you like.”

Stiles looks away and tugs his shirt down. “You sure? I know you don’t go back to Beacon Hills, but maybe you do Thanksgiving with Carla or other friends? You’re a good cook.”

“Some years with Carla or some other people from work. But I’m fine skipping it; it’s nice having an excuse to not have to go out or have people over.” Peter splays his hand on Stiles’ stomach, dragging a finger along his belly button. It popped out at the start of the third trimester, which Stiles wasn’t expecting, so of course, Peter teases him about it as often as possible.  

“You sure? It’s okay if you want to go, I can stay by myself,” Stiles tells him, looking up at Peter.

Peter snorts and pulls Stiles close again.  “Sure, I’ll go out for the day and leave you a turkey pot-pie in the freezer. How’s that?”

“That would work. Or I guess, if you want to stay and cook, I’ll make myself eat. Especially if there’s sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top.”

“Why aren’t I surprised you’d like that. Now go to sleep, I’m exhausted,” Peter says. “I’ll go get burritos when we get up, how’s that?”

Stiles rolls back over, letting Peter be the comforting big spoon. “That sounds good. Guacamole?”

“Of course,” Peter answers, scenting Stiles’ hair again as he dozes off. “Whatever you want, Stiles. Whatever you want.”

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a girl!

Thanksgiving is enjoyable and quiet with just the two of them as Peter promised. Stiles’ contribution is his mother’s chocolate-pecan pie, which Peter insists will be on his future menus. After stuffing himself until he’s in a food-coma, Stiles falls asleep on the couch with his head on Peter’s lap. Peter plays with Stiles’ hair while watching the Cowboys lose their game. It’s one of the better Thanksgiving he remembers.

 

After that, it’s mostly waiting. Stiles tries not to push Peter’s buttons, and his daily routine mainly consists of eating healthy meals and napping as much as possible.  It’s not a hard life.

Peter tries not to be too bossy and lets Stiles eat non-healthy snacks when he gets cravings. He provides snack size bags of chips and tries to pretend that the spinach in spinach dip counts as a vegetable.

“Doctor appointment? Again?” Stiles whines, one morning when Peter wakes him.

He’s showered and dressed, and has already completed a few hours of work. “Sorry, but yes. You know she wants to see you every week from now until the baby comes.”

“Ugh, what time is it anyway?”

Peter checks his watch and answers, “Just a little after noon. Our appointment is at two-thirty.”

“Why’d you wake me up so…oh, yeah. I am that slow.” Stiles stretches, scratches in a few places and then slowly gets up. Since Thanksgiving, he’s put on a couple more pounds, but mostly it’s like the weight has shifted again. His hips look narrower and everything’s moved to the front, including a little bit on the top.

“Good thing I’m having this baby soon,” he says, looking in his drawer for a shirt. “Much more and I won’t be able to wear anything, bottom or top.” He shakes out a shirt, holding it in front of him, while facing the mirror. “Wasn’t expecting to get such an impressive rack,” he sighs.

“It happens. Hormones you know,” Peter says, trying to hold back a grin. “I’ll start lunch for you while you shower.”

“You’re the best!” Stiles calls over his shoulder as he waddles into the bathroom. Now Peter lets himself grin as he thinks about what would be a good brunch for his baby and the man that’s carrying her.

 

Peter revised his opinion about Aleshia months ago. She’s been a good doctor for Stiles and she’s been helpful to him, too, providing a list of three pediatricians who can take care of a werewolf baby.

He was hoping that she would, as she’s delivering the child and he trusts her, but she gently reminded him that she’s an ob/gyn and not a pediatrician.

The first doctor he went to seemed competent, but Peter felt he was being judged for not having a pack to raise his child. So that one’s out.

He nearly skipped the second doctor, when he checked his profile on-line and found that he was born in 1985. The doctor looks no older than Stiles, but he’s friendly and qualified and seemed excited at the prospect of taking care of a new baby. He loads Peter up with some pamphlets, recommends his favorite formula and gives Peter a schedule of when he’d like to see Alexis. The baby’s not born yet, but the doctor calls her by her name, which Peter loves.

The third doctor is older, which Peter likes, but she seems enthralled by the Hale name, asking as many questions about his old pack as she does about his child. That’s not going to happen.

It’s not a difficult decision to go with doctor number two. It felt strange going to see these doctors without Stiles, but he knows that’s the thing to do; Stiles won’t be with them on the baby’s appointments, he’ll be back to his real life.

 

If everything goes according to plan, Stiles will have the baby on December 20. Stiles hates the weekly visits, even though they’re not particularly invasive. Aleshia draws blood and measures his stomach. She does an ultra sound one week, and tells them both to be ready for the due date.

At the end of each visit, Peter sits in the waiting room, while she still meets privately with Stiles. He plugs in his phone and listens to music, giving them their privacy. If Stiles wants to talk about anything, he will.

 

“It’s a pretty room,” Stiles says, leaning against the wall, watching Peter put the latest baby clothes into the new dresser drawers. Tomorrow’s baby day and he’s spent most of the day wandering through the house, unable to sit still for more than a few minutes.

Peter finishes and turns, looking at the room with a smile. “Thank you. I think it turned out nice,” he says. Furniture is in place, including a rocking chair he found in an antique shop that now sits by the window. There’s illustrations from “Harold and the Purple Crayon” framed and hung around the room; Stiles mentioned it was one of his favorite childhood series and Peter remembered them from his childhood, too, laughing that Stiles’ mother would read him something older than she was.

“They’re classics!” Stiles replied and picked out his favorites. “You wouldn’t mock if it were Winnie the Pooh. And he’s older than Harold.”

Peter shrugs and straightens a picture, saying, “Somehow I don’t think our genes would combine for something as banal as Pooh Bear.”

“True. And these are probably much more appropriate for a child than Edward Gorey prints.”

“Let’s go to bed, Stiles; tomorrow’s a big day.” Peter puts an arm around his shoulder, guiding him out of Alexis’ room, flipping the light off behind them.

Stiles yawns and leans into Peter’s side. “I know. It’s like Christmas when you’re a kid. You know if you go to sleep, it’ll be here faster, but I don’t know that I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” he says, letting Peter lead him to bed.

Peter curls up behind him, and they both fall asleep within minutes.

 

“Good evening, are you ready for the big event?” Aleshia asks, escorting them into her surgery room.  Aleshia cleared her other patients out early and they’re the only ones at her office.

“If by ready, you mean so nervous I’m going to vomit, count me in,” Stiles answers, looking as though he wants to shrink into himself.

“Stiles, we talked this through, remember?” she says, smiling as she takes his hands. “You’ll get an epidural, and another anesthetic. I promise you won’t feel any pain.”

“Okay, I better not. Remember, my baby daddy is a werewolf.”

Aleshia smiles at Peter and says, “Hard to forget.” He studies her and sniffs the air, catching her scent. Excited, happy, and not-at-all nervous. As opposed to Stiles, who stinks of fear. Excitement underneath, but a stinky layer of fear on top.

“You’ve done these before?” he asks. He knows the answer, but wants Stiles to hear it again.

She rubs Stiles’ shoulder and answers, “C-sections? Probably a million of them.”

“How many on guys though?” Stiles asks her, wrapping both hands over his stomach.

Aleshia smiles at him and says, “Kyle will help you get comfortable and I’ll be in in just few minutes. Peter, do you want to stay and watch your daughter be born?”

“Of course.”

“Great. Kyle will get you some scrubs and then we’ll get started.”

 

Once it starts, it goes remarkably fast. Stiles has the epidural and some extra medication to make sure he’s numb. There’s an IV set up for antibiotics and extra fluids. Peter sits by Stiles’ head, able to see over the drape that’s set up to block Stiles’ view of the surgery. Aleshia talks her way through everything that she’s doing and Kyle assists her with whatever she needs, impressing Peter with his competence. Apparently, he’s more than just a smiling, pretty face.

“Okay, just another minute,” she says, and Peter can’t quite see what she’s doing, which he’s okay with. It’s one thing to rip out the throat of someone who deserves it, but he really doesn’t want to see what Stiles’ insides look like.

“She’s here.” Aleshia smiles at him, her eyes bright over the surgical mask. “Kyle, why don’t you take Alexis and get her cleaned up. Peter, go with Kyle and he’ll give you your daughter.”

 

Peter gets settled in one of the other offices, and as soon as Kyle’s cleaned her up, he hands her to Peter. She got a perfect ten on both her APGAR tests, which isn’t a surprise because she’s obviously perfect. Peter checks her pink fingers and toes, and smooths down her wispy black hair.

“She’s really lovely,” Kyle says, and Peter hears the awe in his voice, and tries to remember that this is new to him and Aleshia as well. He points and says, “Look, she has a little beauty mark by her mouth.”

She has two small moles, one next to her mouth and one higher up on her cheek. Peter kisses her forehead and nods at Kyle. “Because she’s beautiful.” He rubs his face on her head, unable to stop himself from scent marking her again. “How’s Stiles? Can you go check?” he asks.

“Sure, be right back,” Kyle says, and pats Peter’s shoulder. Peter’s too happy to take off his arm.

After Kyle leaves, Peter leans back with Alexis resting on his chest. She makes quiet little noises as she settles into sleep, and he shuts his eyes for a moment, waiting until he can see Stiles.

“Peter,” Aleshia says quietly, “how are you both?”

“We’ve good, Aleshia. Thank you. And how’s Stiles, is he up to visitors?”

“He’s fine, he’s sleeping now,” she nods and takes a seat next to him, leaning over to look at Alexis. “I’d like to take a look at her, if that’s okay. Just give her a quick check before you two go home.”

She takes the baby and he follows, trying not to growl when she walks to the other side of the room. She does a quick exam, listening to Alexis’ heartbeat and checking her breathing. “She seems fine; not surprising, with a werewolf father.”

“I’m sure she’ll be hardy.” On this side of the room, Peter can hear Stiles’ heartbeat next door. It’s slow, but he’s obviously awake. “Can I go see Stiles? Check how he’s doing?”

“Peter, I think it’s time you go home,” Aleshia says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Alexis is fine and as we discussed originally, when she’s healthy enough to leave, you can take her home. I know you have arrangements for the birth certificate.”

“That’s fine, Aleshia, but I’d like to see Stiles before we go. I can leave her in here – with you or Kyle – if you think he’s not ready to see her, but…”

She does genuinely look sorry when she says, “Peter…Stiles told me he doesn’t want to see you now. He told me that on the last visit and then again today.  He’ll call you when he’s ready to talk, but for now he wants you to leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a horrible person.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets used to being a father. Carla's back and offers advice.

The first few weeks with the baby pass faster than Peter expected. She’s a good baby, (of course) eating heartily and sleeping three hours at a time right off the bat, so Peter’s able to get regular naps himself. He’s tired, but not horribly so and he’s content. Every time he looks at Alexis he thinks this is the best thing he’s ever done.

It’s different without Stiles in the house; everything is quieter and as much as he hates to say it, it’s less messy. The day after Alexis is born, he takes 10 minutes to transfer the remaining money he owes to Stiles’ bank account. He sends a text confirming that it’s done and gets back a message that says, “Thanks.” And nothing more.

Okay, Stiles needs some time to recover, that makes sense. He’s been through a lot, with the pregnancy and then major surgery to give birth. Peter can wait.

He texts Lydia and confirms the baby’s name and other information she’ll need to provide a birth certificate. She sends back a message that says, “Congratulations. Certificate and bill to follow.”  Because she’s Lydia, he gets the birth certificate a few days later, and it comes with a bill and a stamped, pre-addressed envelope to a post office box. He grins as he sends off the check; this is the Lydia he remembers, smart and suspicious and unwilling to let Peter know anything about her that he doesn’t need to know.

He takes his time gathering up Stiles’ belongings and putting them into boxes. His clothes are washed and Peter packs them in a suitcase so they’ll be easier for him to pick up. There’s no reason for his clothes to go back to him in a garbage bag. He packs a soft blanket that Stiles liked in one of the boxes; if Stiles doesn’t want it, it’s up to him to get rid of it. And it makes Peter feel better about the soft t-shirt he’s kept. It’s not for him, not exactly. Alexis likes it when Peter has it over his shoulder as he feeds her. He keeps that and the pillow that Stiles slept on, not washing the pillow case. It’s probably not sanitary and maybe not sane, but Peter sleeps easier with it, and he’s pretty sure that Alexis is calmed by the scent that she’s familiar with.

A week later, Peter gets a text from Danny, asking if he can come by and pick up Stiles things. He smells embarrassed when he and another muscled young man move Stiles’ belongings down to the car, taking only two trips to get everything. Danny doesn’t say anything about Stiles and Peter doesn’t ask, which seems to calm the young man’s nerves slightly. When they leave, Peter decides it’s time for he and Alexis take a nap. He settles them on the couch and Alexis falls asleep on his chest within minutes. Peter stares at the ceiling and finally doses off, a protective hand on her back.

 

While Peter won’t know for certain if Alexis is human or wolf until she’s three or four years old, he does see that she’s a strong baby. That’s expected with his wolf genes; even if she’s human (and there’s nothing wrong with that) she’ll always have extra immunity and be better able to fight off any sicknesses she does get. He follows a family tradition that his father and his grandfather used, and every day he makes a small cut in one of his fingers and lets a couple of drops of blood drop into Alexis’ mouth. His father said it helps makes babies stronger to have a bit of a born wolf’s blood. Of course, Talia did it with her brood, so it’s probably stupid. Growing up, Peter always thought it was an outdated custom, but now he’s falling back on those old family traditions. After all, it can’t hurt and it makes him feel closer to his magical roots. Ridiculous really, and he certainly won’t follow other stupid werewolf customs, but just this one is probably okay.

 

Carla gives him a week before she comes over in a storm of tiny dresses and rompers and bibs with cute sayings on them edged with sequins. Alexis has a her first doctor appointment, so she only stays long enough to hug them both and promise to baby sit any time he needs it or even if he doesn’t. “You’re meeting me for coffee,” she tells him, giving Alexis’ head one more kiss. “No excuses, Peter. You can’t become a hermit with a baby, that’s not like you.”

“I was happy enough being a semi-hermit without a baby,” he tells her, strapping Alexis into her carrier.

Carla walks him out to their cars and says, “So stay a hermit and I’ll still baby-sit. Or you could try not to be an ass and meet me for coffee.”

“Text me with the details,” Peter says, pulling away from her, before he backs up and stops next to her car. “Good to see you and thanks for the swag.”

“Dick,” she answers and blows him a kiss before speeding away.

 

He’s supposed to meet Carla at a small coffee shop by the office around eleven o’clock, which is one of the best times for Alexis. She’s been fed twice and had a nap in between and she’s generally social for at least an hour or so. Much beyond two hours and she turns into a whining, screaming maniac who can make a non-werewolf’s ears bleed, but that two hour sweet spot is one of Peter’s favorite times each day. He resents it a little that he has to share that time with Carla, but then again, he gets to show off his amazing daughter to his best friend, so it’s worth it.

 

Traveling with a small baby does mean having a lot of literal baggage. There’s the baby’s carrier that doubles as a car seat and the Burberry diaper bag, which while extravagant, is very useful. It holds bottles and changing pads and extra clothes and of course, diapers and bags to throw out the used diapers that Alexis creates with startling frequency.

When Peter enters the coffee shop, Carla greets him with a kiss and whispers, “Be nice and no hating.”

He takes a breath and smiles at his coworkers who all call out “Surprise!” as he shoots Carla a look that could crumble lesser humans. It just makes her laugh.

“I may kill you later,” he says to her as Carla takes Alexis’ seat so he can get hugs and handshakes from a few clients and friends at his office.

After the first few minutes getting everyone settled back down, and with a latte in hand, he’s a little surprised at himself because he’s not horrified. He does actually like these people, and their annoying actions and petty problems. They’re human and they accept him, or at least they accept the person he presents to them. That’s more than he was able to say about his family most of the time.

He keeps half an eye open for Alexis as she’s passed around the room. He never loses her scent and he really isn’t worried; again, this is good for her immunity and will make her stronger.

It’s not surprising that everyone coos over how cute she is, and how alert she is at just over a month old. Carla told everyone not to expect this to be a regular baby shower, and that Peter won’t be unwrapping presents to ooh and aww over, so people are holding up dresses or pajamas in front of her to see how they might look.

He does smile when he catches people’s eyes, in between questions about who her pediatrician is (she’s well known and he gets congratulations about getting in) and when he’s coming back to work (take your time, there’s no rush, this time goes so quickly).

“You’re truly an awful person,” he tells Carla, taking a bite out of a warm croissant. “You may be as bad as me.”

She grabs a corner of his pastry and says, “Yeah, I might be.” She shrugs and licks her fingers. “So what are you going to do, fire me?”

“No, that would be too disruptive to my life. I may stop talking with you outside of work.”

She nudges his shoulder with hers and says, “Nah, you love me. You’d miss me.”

“Maybe,” he acknowledges. “But this is still unacceptable.”

“Yeah, deal with it, Peter. I told you, people like babies and buying things for babies. And like it or not, these people like you.”

He looks at her and tries to sneer, but one of his coworkers interrupts to say goodbye, giving him a hug and raving about how beautiful Alexis is. The impromptu party starts to thin out after that, and Peter gets Alexis back after many other hugs and pats on the shoulder.

“Hand her over,” Carla demands, holding her arms out. Peter gives her a quick sniff to be sure she’s still dry before he gives her to Carla. “She gets that, too, eh? I guess that’s to be expected.”

“If she needs to be changed, she’ll be very vocal. You won’t want to hold her when she goes off. Not to mention the smell,” he says, shrugging.

There’s only a few people left from the party, but Carla leans close to whisper, “So, is she a werewolf, too?”

Peter’s first reaction is to stiffen, but he forces himself to take a breath before he turns to her and says, “Excuse me?”

She snorts and rolls her eyes, taking Peter’s hand. “I’m not stupid, Peter. I figured it out a couple of years ago. And as far as I know, no one else knows.” She studies him for a moment, grinning, and says, “You okay?”

“I think I might actually be speechless,” he answers, reaching to take his child, suddenly feeling a need to hold her. He doesn’t feel threatened by Carla, and her scent is as calm and open as usual. There’s a tinge of curiosity, but no anger or fear.

She leans close and Peter thinks that to the others still in the coffee shop, she looks like a friend cooing at a baby. “Like I said, I’m not stupid. You kind of growl when you’re annoyed and one time your eyes did this weird glowing thing. I started keeping track of your moods with a calendar and…yeah, I put two and two together. It’s not rocket science. So what about Alexis?”

“I won’t know until she’s older. Possibly when she’s a toddler. She could be completely human though and that would be fine.” Alexis fusses a bit, probably sensing her father’s tension. He forces himself to calm down, kissing her head and putting his scent back on her, after everyone who’s touched her. “I must say you’re very calm about this.”

“Whatever makes you happy. I’m a modern woman.” She sits back, looking at them thoughtfully. “Hmm. Stiles is a werewolf, too, but Alexis could be human?”

Peter shakes his head and smiles. “No, he’s human.”

“Oh. I just assumed. He’s a male and was pregnant and so I thought it must be because he’s…”

“He’s human. He’s magic though,” Peter explains, grinning.

“Hmm. Magic, sure. I should have guessed that,” she says, smiling back, as though this is just a normal conversation. “He’s at home, I guess? How’s he feeling?”

Alexis starts fussing, and Peter recognizes her pre-hungry wiggles, so he grabs a bottle from diaper bag. “I assume he’s at his home and recovering. I haven’t spoken to him since Alexis was born.”

She sits back and stares at him, eyes wide. “What? What do you mean, where is he?”

Peter stops to say goodbye and thank the last few guests and then makes sure the bottle is still warm. He gets Alexis set and holds the bottle for her, and she starts sucking voraciously. “As I said, I assume he’s back at his apartment. Back to his life, just like in the contract.”

“Fuck your contract, you idiot, what are you talking about? Why did you let him go?”

“Language, please,” he says, nodding towards his daughter, who doesn’t appear to be bothered. “And I didn’t let him go, he chose to go.”

“Did you ask him not to? Did you tell him that you’re happier with him around? Did you tell him you’re much less of a…” She looks down at the baby and says, “D. I. C. K. when he’s around?”

“No. He told the obstetrician that he didn’t want to see us after he gave birth. I respected that decision.” Alexis finishes eating, and Peter expertly puts a towel over his shoulder and gently rubs her back until she burps. “I would think you’d appreciate my respecting his decision, rather than giving me crap about it.”

Carla grins and says, “Language. And while I understand you were respecting his decision, did you consider that maybe he was thinking you wouldn’t want him around after he delivered the product? Think about it Peter, maybe he’s feeling like he’s your broodmare and now you’re done with him. Are you done with him?”

“I never treated him like that,” Peter snorts and runs his fingers through Alexis’ hair. He’ll need to leave soon, she’ll want to be changed and have her pre-afternoon-nap meltdown. “I do miss him. It was nice having him around.”

“You like him,” she says, quietly.

Peter shrugs and starts to gather up the gifts and repack items he’s taken out of the diaper bag. “We’re going to need to go. She’s probably sleep for a couple of minutes if I put her back in her seat, but she’ll need a bath and a real nap soon.”

Carla stands and pulls a box out from under a table. “I thought ahead, Peter, with something to pack up your booty. I’ll help you carry this out to your car.”

“Well, you are smart, that’s one of the reasons I love you,” he answers. She smiles at him, and he pulls her into a hug. Now that she knows, he just goes for it, scent marking her neck, ending it with a little nip that make her shiver.

“Such a freak,” she says, cupping his cheek with one hand. “And you know I love you, too, so I’m going to tell you something. Do not let that man get away. You were happier with him and I saw you two together, and he was happy, too. Don’t be one of those emotionally constipated guys. Tell him.”

Peter’s quiet as he picks up his daughter’s seat and Carla picks up the box full of presents from his friends. “Seriously, Peter. Go and tell him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bit of blood drinking, but not really. Hope it's not too upsetting.  
> One more chapter!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter spends time with his family and talks with Stiles.
> 
> And there's an epilogue because I love epilogues.

_Okay_ , Peter tells himself, _it won’t be that bad_. The phone’s picked up after just two rings. He was hoping it would go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

_Deep breath_. “Hello, Derek. It’s Peter.”

“Peter. Hi.”

_That’s helpful. At least he didn’t hang up. Now would be a good time to hear a heart beat over the phone._

“Derek, I’m hoping you can pass a message on to the alpha in your territory. I’d like to come up for a visit shortly.” That’s good, he worded it very carefully before he called, as Peter’s not sure if the true alpha is still there and if Derek actually considers him _his_ alpha.

“Scott’s right here, one second,” Derek says and before Peter can say anything else, he hears the peppy, earnest voice of the boy ( _man now_ ) who should have been his first beta.

“Hi, Peter, you’re on speaker. How are you doing? How’s Alexis?” Scott chirps, sounding obnoxiously cheery.

Of course Scott knows about Alexis. Stiles spoke with him often during his pregnancy. It’s just hard to connect the alpha of his former territory with the bumbling boy of his memory.

“She’s fine, she’s…she’s why I’m calling actually,” Peter says quietly. _Don’t grovel._ “I’d like to bring her up to Beacon Hills. If Derek’s willing, I’d like her to meet him. He’s family. And I feel like she should visit her family’s territory. If that’s not a problem.”

“You want to bring her here?” Derek asks and suddenly Peter hears the excited sixteen year old allowed to take out the car for the first time. “I’d like that. I’d really like that, Peter. She’s my cousin and …”

There’s muttering over the phone that Peter can’t quite hear and suddenly Scott’s saying, “Yeah, that would be great. I figured you’d be coming here, so sure. Whenever you want.”

“How about the day after tomorrow? Will that work?” He has Alexis in his arms, pacing around his living room, both because she likes to be rocked like this and to wear off a bit of his energy.

“Sure!” Scott says and Peter can picture him bouncing around the room, probably peeing himself like a puppy. “We’ll see you in a couple of days. Bye!”

 

Peter’s always enjoyed driving, although he hasn’t taken this particular route in years. It feels different with Alexis securely strapped into the back seat, although he hates that she needs to face away from him. Alexis doesn’t seem to mind though, and as soon as they get out of the city and onto the freeway she falls asleep, her steady breathing loud and comforting to his ears.

Peter stops about every hour, checking on her, making sure she doesn’t need a bottle or to be changed. Not all men’s restrooms have baby changing tables, so he changes her in his car, and then carries her while he drops the used diapers into a trash can. Sometimes he’s amazed that something so beautiful can make something that smells so hideous.

He arrives in Beacon Hills in the late afternoon, checking out the changes to his former home. Some of the old warehouses have been torn down, along with the old train station where his nephew used to squat. There’s a few new businesses on the main street and the place generally looks a little better than when he left a million years ago.

When he gets to Derek’s loft, he sits outside for a few minutes gathering his thoughts. Since he left, they’ve spoken once or twice a year, usually Christmas and maybe a birthday. And actually, their conversations have been longer and slightly warmer as the years have gone past; the distance in both time and mileage seems to have helped.

Peter picks up the phone when it rings, startling him out of his thoughts. “Are you just going to sit out there? I want to see my cousin,” Derek says, and he sounds amused rather than annoyed. Maybe the boy has grown up a little.

“Just thinking about what she’ll need for a visit,” Peter lies smoothly. Which, admittedly, isn’t a great way to start a reunion, but he’s loathe to tell his nephew how monumental this feels.

“Do you need me to come down and carry things? How much stuff does a tiny baby need?”

“No, no thank you, I’ve got it. Be right up,” Peter says, hanging up before Derek can say anything else or offer again to assist. He takes out her travel bag and her car seat, which doubles as her seat. She’ll be starting to sit up by herself soon, but she likes the seat and it works as a good place for a nap. If all goes well, he may need to come back down and pick up some other items, but that’ll be for later.

 

Derek’s waiting by the door, looking relaxed and smelling happy and only slightly anxious; good anxious, excited, but not nervous. He also reeks of Scott, who’s standing behind him, a huge smile on his face.

“Hi, Peter, welcome, come on in,” Derek says, clasping Peter’s bicep for a second, before letting go. He’s talking to Peter, but his focus is totally on Alexis.

“Derek, good to see you. I hope this isn’t a bad time…” he says, looking pointedly at Scott, who is all but dancing next to Derek, trying to peek at Alexis.

“No, of course not, you’re right on time,” Derek answers, glancing over his shoulder. “Umm, so Scott’s here because he lives here. So I guess I should have mentioned that, but we didn’t talk long the other day.”

“I see,” he says simply and smiles at them both, while putting Alexis’ seat on the sofa. It wouldn’t have been Peter’s choice certainly, but he remembers Derek and Scott were getting along when Peter left. Working together rather well, with Derek having forgiven Scott for making him bite Gerard. And Scott finally listening, at least a little, to what Derek was able to teach. Chances are, this lover won’t try to kill him, so who is Peter to question.

“Derek, this is your cousin, Alexis Renée Hale.” He takes her out of her seat, and she yawns, looking around the room and finally focuses on Derek with a wet grin.

“May I?” Derek asks, holding out his hands and looking hopefully a Peter. “How old is she now?”

“Of course, I’d like you to know each other; you’re family,” Peter answers and hands his baby over. “And she’s fourteen weeks – three and a half-months.” Somehow, this is more nerve wracking than watching his coworkers pass her around. This means more.

Derek takes her and after a moment, he pulls Alexis to his chest, gazing at the baby with such wonder and affection in his eyes that Peter knows this was the right thing to do. All three of them need this. Derek ducks his head and inhales deeply, shutting his eyes as he runs his nose across the top of her head. Alexis makes a tiny noise, and Derek pulls back to check and be sure she’s okay. She smiles up at him, reaching out a hand to his scruff and giggles.

“She’s only done that a couple of times, the giggling,” Peter says quietly, rubbing his chin. “For some reason, she likes beards. Be careful though, she has a strong grip if she gets you.”

“Do you like scratchy faces, little one?” Derek asks, moving so he’s within her grasp, but not close enough to scrape her face with his beard. She giggles again and looks to Peter for a moment, before patting Derek’s face.

Scott looks at the baby in Derek’s arms, smiling at her and also smiling at the gentle look on Derek’s face. “Can I… Would your alpha mind if I held her?”

“Actually, I think _she’s_ my alpha, she’s bossy enough,” Peter says and the two wolves with his child barely glance up when his heart skips a beat. _We’re omegas,_ Peter thinks, _technically, we’re both omegas and we’re in a house with an alpha and either his second or his mate – or maybe he’s both._ Peter centers himself, willing his heartbeat to slow down. He’s had enough experience lying that it’s not that hard to do, although he’s out of practice with other wolves. Derek and Scott say nothing, and Peter looks at them and decides he has no choice but to trust the family bond. “You can hold her,” Peter says. “You know how, I hope, or Derek can show you.”

“Yeah, I’ve held babies before,” Scott answers, taking Alexis from Derek’s arms. “Oh, look how pretty she is!” he exclaims, giving her forehead a soft kiss. He holds her head in the crook of his elbow, avoiding putting his hands on her neck, where’d he leave more scent. He also doesn’t flash his eyes at either of them, which Peter appreciates. She’s only seen his blue eyes.

“Come on, sit down,” Derek says, directing Scott to the couch and nodding for Peter to follow.

“I’m probably biased, but I think she’s lovely,” Peter says, watching Scott and Derek coo over his child. “I think she’ll have my hair and she’s seems to have settled on my blue eyes, although that might still change.”

“She has Stiles’ nose,” Scott says, passing her back over to Derek who can’t stop staring by the girl, besotted look on his face. “And the beauty marks, of course.”

“His mouth, too,” Derek says, looking up at his uncle. “Are you going to see him while you’re here?”

Peter shrugs, knowing his heartbeat is probably all over place, but unable to control it. “I’m not sure. I’ve thought about it. Lydia told me that he’s here, staying with his father.”

“Yeah, he’s been here since…well, since she was born,” Scott says, nodding towards Alexis. “You should go see him.”

“He doesn’t seem anxious to see me,” Peter says, leaning back on the couch. It’s very comfortable; the entire loft looks comfortable and lived in, clearly a blending of two personalities. “So should I ask how long you two…” he smiles and waits, smirking just a little as Derek’s cheeks color.

“A few months. While Scott was telling Stiles to man up and pursue what he wanted, I decided to do the same,” Derek says, looking over to Scott with obvious affection.

“Well, you’re both sickeningly sweet,” Peter says, more because it’s expected of him than anything else. He can’t say he’s unhappy at Derek’s obvious contentment. But the comment about ‘manning up and pursue what he wants’ is interesting and perhaps even slightly inspiring. “Give me back my daughter and you two can hold hands or whatever.”

They both grin as Derek hands Alexis back and she buries her face in Peter’s neck, while he rubs his cheek on her head, laying his scent on top of the others on her. _Pack_.   _She smells like pack_. “Do you have some reason to think that Stiles would be willing to see us? Or me?”

Scott says, “I think he’d talk to you. It might actually be early to bring Alexis over, but he’ll talk with you. He didn’t want to talk with you right away because he was scared.” Scott shrugs, leaning into Derek. “You know, he felt like he was in too deep and feeling more than you did.”

“He never gave me a chance to talk with him about it,” Peter says. Alexis is falling asleep again, as Peter settles her into her seat for a pre-dinner nap.

“And what do you want?” Derek asks gently. “I think he’d like to be someone in Alexis’ life. Do you want that or something more?”

“I think…” Peter brushes tiny dark curls off Alexis’ forehead, leaving his hand on her chest so he can feel her breathe. _Time to man up_. “If he’ll have me, I want everything. With him.”

Scott and Derek both break into wide smiles and Scott pounds on Derek’s thigh, exclaiming, “Yeah, good! You go talk with him, you can leave Alexis here, we’ll take care of her. His Dad’s not home tonight and we told him we’re busy, so he’s going to be home alone.”

Derek gives Scott a glare and rubs his thigh. “It’s your move, Peter; he won’t reach out to you. You came this far, you should follow through.”

Peter nods and checks his watch, trying to decide when’s the right time to go. And should he call first? Should he wait until after Alexis’ nap? Or feed her first?

“We’ve got it, Peter. Go,” Scott says. “Oh, and I have to say it, please don’t hurt him.”

“Or what?” Peter asks, rolling his eyes as he stands and grabs his jacket. “You’ll have to kick my ass?” _God, not this again._

Derek answers, “No, we don’t need to. Don’t hurt him because he’s got some strong magic and he’ll kick your ass himself.”

 

Peter remembers where the sheriff lives and parks in front of the house, checking to be sure he’s not home. He rings the doorbell and hears footsteps inside, then suddenly the door’s pulled open and Stiles is standing in front of him.

“Peter.” He stands frozen, silent and staring.

It gives Peter a chance to study him, with his arms wrapped around himself. He’s buried in a too-large hooded sweatshirt and Peter can see that he’s lost most, but not quite all, of the baby weight.

“Stiles,” he says quietly, unthreatening. “I hope I’m not coming at a bad time.”

“No, it’s fine. I mean…what are you doing here?” He looks around Peter, and Peter smells anxiety rolling off him.

“I’m in town to see Derek, for Alexis to meet him actually. She’s there with…well, with Derek and Scott, which is _not_ something I expected,” Peter says, shrugging.

This finally brings a smile to Stiles’ face. “I know, I was a little surprised. Somehow Scott didn’t think of telling me. And I know that Derek’s always been one of Scott’s biggest fans, but I wasn’t expecting that either. I think he didn’t want to rub my nose in it.”

“They both seem happy,” Peter says, smiling, as he looks around the small front porch. “And Alexis seems happy having them babysit for a bit. There’s enough of a familiar smell to Derek that she’s comfortable with him.”

Stiles nods, looking away, heartbeat jumping. “She’s here?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t leave her at home. I think they’ll take good care of her, as long as they don’t bicker over who gets to feed her.”

Stiles gives a small smile and says, “Or who has to change her. I’m guessing with two werewolf noses, that might be a chore.”

“Well, they’ll have to figure it out, because she doesn’t like to be wet and she _will_ make it known.” Stiles has stayed in the doorway, leaning against the door jam. “Do you think we could talk for a few minutes? Maybe you want to come out and sit on the porch.” He gestures to a park bench seat next to him and waits to see what Stiles will do.

“Okay, I guess so.” Stiles waits until Peter sits and then sits down. It’s a small seat, and they’re fairly close, and Peter tries to make sure he’s not sitting right up against Stiles, trying to make sure he’s comfortable and doesn’t bolt.

“Why are you here?” Stiles asks, turning to him, head cocked.

Peter clasps his hands together to keep from reaching out to the boy sitting next to him. “To see if you’re okay. To talk to you. Because I miss you and I hope that maybe you miss me a little. To ask you to go out on a date.”

“A date?” Stiles asks, but some of the bitter smell he’s had fades. “Kind of pedestrian, isn’t it?”

“We had some good dates, dinner and a movie. I enjoyed them, I thought you did, too.”

Stiles snorts quietly and nods. “I did. You’re actually a very good date. I had fun.”

“We could do that again,” Peter says, gently. “Is that Mexican restaurant on First Street still open? They had good tacos, if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah, they’re still open. They’re okay, not as good as El Farolito back home, but pretty good for here,” Stiles answers. “So we’re going to do this kind of backwards? Have sex, have a baby and then go on a date?”

“Seems to be working that way. Although I’d say that somewhere in there, we’d have to include becoming friends.” Peter relaxes a bit and when his leg presses against Stiles’ he doesn’t move away. “I thought you might be back at work by now. I hope everything’s okay with your job.” _Come home._

“Oh yeah,” Stiles says, nodding and grinning and looking much more like himself. “They’ve shut down my section for renovations and asked me if I’d be willing to come back. I guess they got a little concerned when Danny called and pretended to be from the Washington Park Aboretum calling for a reference on me.”

Peter chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re lucky that worked, it could have backfired tremendously. So when do you go back? Is there a date yet?”

Stiles shakes his head, moving closer to Peter. “Couple more weeks, probably. They’re going to give me a week’s notice before they need me. And then we’ll probably open again a week or two after that.”

“Are you looking forward to it?” Peter doesn’t ask if he’s looking forward to being back in the city – back home.

“I think so. I needed a break, you know.” He looks down at his hands, clasped together in his lap. “I needed some time away to clear my head. Get back to reality.”

“Maybe it was nice staying at your childhood home for a while. But it’ll probably be good to get back to your own life in the city. Back to your home. Away from the woman across the street who’s been looking out the front window, hiding behind the curtains.” Peter smiles at Stiles who looks up through his eyelashes while keeping his head down.

“The blue house? That’s Mrs. Kravitz. She’s constantly on patrol to make sure nothing untoward happens,” Stiles answers with a small grin.

“She has lovely hair, you don’t often see that color yellow in nature,” Peter muses, reaching over and taking Stiles’ hand. “This should give her something to discuss with her coffee klatch. Sheriff’s son and the dashing stranger.”

“Dashing?” Stiles chuckles. “You do think highly of yourself. And besides, you’re not a stranger. Not really.” He looks down at their entwined hands.  “A date, eh? You’ll take me to dinner?”

“And a movie if you’d like. Or dinner and a club, if something like that exists in Beacon Hills.” Peter leans over, nosing into Stiles’ hair, enjoying the smell that he’s missed these last couple of months, the smell of home.

“Jungle’s still open. We could go there and you can watch me get drunk. I haven’t done that for a while.”

Peter considers it and answers, “We could do that, sounds like fun. I could blow you in the bathroom.”

Stiles jerks his hand away and swats at Peter as he stands. “Damn, don’t say stuff like that, especially not if I’m drinking. I’ll end up passing beer through my nose.” He laughs and moves towards the house.

“We could give Mrs. Kravitz a reason to watch your house,” Peter says quietly and pulls Stiles towards him, wrapping his arms around him. He leans his forehead against the younger man’s, watching his eyes drift close. Peter bumps their noses together and then turns his head so they’re perfectly aligned for a soft, slow kiss. He keeps it gentle and barely brushes Stiles’ lips with his tongue, enjoying the way he shivers in his arms, pressing his body against Peter’s.

“Damn,” Stiles says, resting his head against Peter’s shoulder. “Yeah, we need to date and we need to do it fast. And by the way, don’t hold it against me, but I’m really easy.”

“Looking forward to it,” Peter answers, pushing him into the house.

 

Two Years Later

“Derek! How you guys doing?” Stiles asks when the phone’s picked up. He’s got the phone against his shoulder and Peter watches as he brushes Alexis’ dark curls.

“Fine,” he answers, and Peter hears a slight edge of caution in his voice.

“Great, good. So listen, big guy, we’re wondering if you want a chance to babysit your cousin later this week,” Stiles says, barreling on, either not hearing or ignoring Derek’s tone. Probably the latter.

At the mention of Alexis, Derek’s voice softens, as it always does. “Probably. What’s going on?”

“Stiles and I will be in your neighborhood at the end of the week, and we’re hoping you can take the baby for the night,” Peter says, pulling the phone away from his mate and setting the phone to speaker.

“Yeah, sure. Surprised you’re not leaving her with Carla,” Scott says, from someplace in the background of Derek’s loft.

“We would, she’d love us to. But you know it’s the full moon later this week,” Stiles answers, laughter in his voice as he catches Peter’s eye.

Derek sounds excited when he says, “That’s right, but she’s not showing yet, is she?”

“No, but she does get a little antsy around the full moon, which is perfectly normal,” Stiles answers, setting her on the ground and watching her run off to slap the patio door so Peter will let her out. “And we have plans for the full moon, so we need sitters.”

“We’re going to make a baby brother or sister for Alexis and thought it would be good to conceive in the preserve,” Peter says, watching Alexis push her tiny toy lawn mower around the deck.

“Ew, that’s more than I needed to know,” Derek answers. “Baby sit Alexis, and stay out of the preserve. Check, we’re in.”

“I think it’s fitting.” Stiles pulls Peter into a hug and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “And any time you two are ready, I could probably work up a spell…”

“Again, thanks, but no thanks,” Scott answers. “If we ever want a kid, we’ll do it the old fashioned way and adopt one. But we’d love to take care of yours for the night.”

“Thank you guys, we’ll text you with the information on when we’ll be in town. Later!” Stiles says, and hangs up.

Peter turns to his spouse and they share a slow kiss before he takes Stiles’ hand so they can sit outside and watch their daughter. “Enjoy the relative quiet, because here we go again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist putting in a little Derek/Scott, because I think it's cute. And it makes some people on Tumblr lose their minds. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has commented and left kudos and asked me if I'm going to finish this. 
> 
> And now it's done!

**Author's Note:**

> I love the fic "Settle Down" by wearing_tearing, whatthehale which is a surrogate Sterek fic. Love it, go read it. 
> 
> But while reading, I thought how it would work for Stiles and Peter and of course it goes in a completely different direction because Peter.
> 
> I do not give permission for my works, including but not limited to this one, to be posted to any other site. This includes, but is not limited to GoodReads.


End file.
